[Please click the landscape photo above to hear "Bittersweet Melody No. 4," composed by the author for wooden flute and Celtic harp.]

I am a worm, consuming Earth I go,

And then a snake emerging from its den,

Then  a fleur de lis.

In each instance

I don't think about my end.  

No, whether flower or beast

My thoughts be

Not on death,

Not on my final breath,

Not the prospect,

Whether worm or bloom.

That I will someday

Face my doom.

No, I think of this right here, right now,

The sun on my leaves,

On my dappled snake's skin,

The Earth still sweet to 

My worm 's taste.

On towards death

I beat no hast.

A symphony is known

Not by its final notes alone.

Of course, you must agree.

Then why can't you see?

It's true of life as well.

Death's no magic spell

That's deeper than

Life's joys and tears,

Not a moment that

Negates our years.

Our time we spend

And then the end.

Yet  on the end

Fix not your gaze,

Instead on how

You'll live your days.