Immortal Players

We play among immortals
In their eternal garden
And they never minded us,
As we are but fleeting milestones.

They change, too, though protracted,
Shapeshifting in their hue,
A kaleidoscope of colors
We've already forgotten to view,
Just as in their loyal hymns,
Their tune is slowly, ever evolving.

Seize well the minutes,
Falling like tears from the heavens
That opened for us to see the things
On our way down that share
Our eager will to take life.

The raindrops hold no pain,
They are new, they are ephemeral,
And then, embrace oblivion--

And there's more falling on,
Unwinding from the loom of
The yawning, endless sky

And they never burden under
The quandary of existence,
Never wonder,
"Why?

Why do I fall
So far from the sky,
Making a life
Through the passing air
And meet the earth
For my goodbye?"

And they don't seek tomorrow,
Because in their watery essence
Lies the memory of
A thousand rebirths.
No drop the same, and yet
Part of the whole here,
They remember they've
Been here before,
In a different form.

They feed the foliage
And rise back up
Into the life of another kind.

Falling, facing their plummet
And replenish like they care only
Of the "what", and never the "why".

We play among immortals
And they never minded us,
Because as we're sculpted by the
Ancient, loyal hands of change,
So are they,
And neither of us
Are ever here long
In the same way.