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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