Brittle Beauty

Brittle beauty, that Nature made so frail,
Whereof the gift is small, and short the season;
Flowering to-day, to-morrow apt to fail; 

Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey (born 1516/17, executed 19January 1547)

open your heart to the grateful dead
to those who choose to live instead
learn to walk in another man's shoes

learn not to avert your gaze
when all the world is ablaze.
give all that you have
with sweet nothing in return 
see a-new in the wilderness
of the wild with the eyes of a child.

do not count on money, my friend,
its value comes and goes,
count your hours, your days
count all the blossoms of love
scattered on the bitter wind of loss

let this ephemeral currency of love
Into your life for all that remains
of you is love.
time flashes by
leaves us high and dry
on the border of eternity
with a light glinting
in the westerly sky,