A Meditation on Aging Parents

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This fact I hold up before me - 
we are all flowers of the field.
What once was strong and enduring
must one day pass away.

Time brings little deaths,
minor infirmities,
adding up year on year - 
have I not felt it?

We are all creations of a moment:
Growing, blooming, fruiting, falling...
but I find this surprise in myself - 
Why does it not cause despair?

It should! If my sum total
adds only to that enjoyed by others,
I should rail against
such gross injustice!

But my hear has been given 
to One who makes sense.
I see, beyond time,
that one day all will be made anew.

Anew, and no longer awry.
With wrong burnt out
in purgation, with evil
washed away in Blood.

And only goodness and worth,
glory and dignity remaining.
Such as we have allowed,
created by our assent to goodness.

Come quick, no time to lose!
Each day brings opportunities for love.
Treasures to be stored up for later,
where rust and moth work not.

Unspeakable gift made possible
by unspeakable sacrifice
of the only One who could make it:
glory in despite of darkness.

Though the fruit has fallen,
and the leaves are turning,
all that is of worth
is recorded, to be played again some Day,

When halleluias ring harmonies
in beauty and sweetness,
in sunshine on leaves,
in smiles on fair faces.

Made possible by Love.
And our love, given freely,
only adding to the harmony:
The Glorious Symphony of All That Has Being!