The world’s the way it’s meant to be
In all its shame and glory,
And those inclined to disagree
Are adding to its story.
Each grain of sand and blade of grass
Is tended by the Master,
But never does an instant pass
Without some fresh disaster.
It couldn’t be another way;
That’s life itself unfolding.
As such, it’s like the budding spray
Which Mother Nature’s holding.
Regardless if it blooms or not,
This much is certain: it shall rot.
Photo by Alessandro Erbetta on Unsplash
