Autumn's Beauty

    Beauty can be found in anything, any object no matter how old, any person no matter how scarred. Even in the worse of times can beauty be found.
   Today as I sat outside on a chipped wooden bench, surveying the countryside I noticed this. The air was cool. the day was cloudy, rain was eminent. Bright orange and yellow leaves were falling like fiery snow in the chipper breeze. As the wind increased, the leaves swirled into little cyclones, dancing gaily to the music that Mother Nature played. The colorful leaves provided a peaceful sight, a soothing serene setting.
   Yet, as I watched, enthralled with happiness, I remembered that those beautiful leaves were dead. It was death that caused them to shrivel, lose their bright green pigment, and drop from the tall trees.
   The change of this season from Summer to Fall brings death. Death to all the leaves and flowers, their lives spent, their season of perfect blossoming over with. Soon, snow will begin to fall, the frigid frozen powder will bury them, sealing their fate. How can beauty be found in such likeness?
   I perceive that anyone can find beauty in anything. If one were to mourn for the lifeless leaves that swirl and fall to their grave, then they must have obviously forgotten that in just a few months, more leaves will be reborn again. Spring will bud forth new life, new hope and new opportunities. Thus, Autumn will return and they will die once more. I find this process adequately beautiful. It is all a part of the grand cycle of life. One day I will be as those helpless little leaves, Now, I am blossoming with life but when my Autumn comes, I will swirl into my own grave. My only wish is that perhaps someone will find beauty in my death. Someone will look at me as I lay lifeless in a polished coffin, "She lived a beautiful life and now her next life is calling to her."
    My transition from this life to the next will be a glorious one. As my soul fades from this world to join the Heavenly host, I will dance to the music of my Maker.
    Do not weep for me oh wayward loved ones. For I am but a little leaf who's time has been rendered. Oh yes the Winter will be long, harsh, and cold. But remember that Spring is coming and so is life. One day, we will meet again. We will be together. We will be happy.
   As for now, I am still a blossom, delicate and budding with life. I look for the beauty where no beauty can be found. I hope for the impossible, I believe the unimaginable. My Autumn has not come but I assure you that when it does, it will be beautiful.

Written by: Hannah Owens © 11.4.11

Delicate Pearls

    From the beginning of time, people have lived and people have died. Always basking in the moment, living for the present, and now their present of ancient is but mere history to my present. The cycle of life continues; babies are born, they grow up, have babies of their own, get old, and then they die. And thus the cycle continues. Life is but a vapor, life is not promised to no one. Life makes no promises, holds no grudge, nor favors any person. It is simply, life.     
   We are here today, but what about tomorrow?
In a world that is ever changing, transforming, dying, and re birthing itself again and again, why not live life to the fullest? Why should a person simply struggle to live and survive in a world that will be erased in years in to come? Why should we the people succumb to harsh reality, give in to sadness and sorrow? There's so much out there, so much life left to live, so much vitality that has yet to be discovered. Each day is a treasure, discover it and bask in its riches. Each heart-felt moment is as a rare gem, cherish it forever. Each smile is as a string of delicate pearls, wear it proudly. Each opportunity could hold such glory and adventure. Take the chance, risk it all, choose to live life in an unimaginable way. For we never know if tomorrow will even come so choose to live for today. Live as happy as you can.
    I will not let sorrow burden me down. I can't afford to spend even a minute wearing a frown. For I waste time wallowing in the depths of utter despair. Life is not promised unto me, yet I live. Tomorrow is not certain, yet I hope. No doubt the cycle of life will take its tole and I will one day be its victim but until that day comes, I am going to live life, I am going to be happy, I am going to be carefree, I am going to be me.

Written by Hannah Owens © 11.2.11

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