None Will Last

 

None of it will last, the poet said, 

contemplating a seascape, a loud 

sunset, a quiet tree. And she cried. 

This poet says: True. It won’t last, but it

is here now and I can love it now. It must 

go; I can’t stop that. Lord knows, I tried 

in my long lifetime, but those who might have 

prevented the decline of all this beauty, didn’t.

However, every moment is the past. This sea 

changes every second. Let alone every day, 

month, century …  This tree likewise; and often

the sunsets will soften or mute. And yes, even 

the whole world may collapse any minute. But 

I am here now, in my short life, and I love it.

The poet quoted in first line: Diane Seuss, in Frank.