All are beautiful 

In this season of harvest 

Under the blue sky

Do not regret, saying

You have wasted your time

You have gathered nothing

You are the fruit

You are the pride

Of the Creator

You are the old beauty

With wrinkles and aching body

With pure smile of the mortal

Wind can sweep you away like fallen leaves 

Autumn sun light can dry you up like a spider web

Star light can tinkle you like an acorn rolled by a squirrel 

Do not cry

Over the passing of lives 

All are beautiful and you are 

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