Flux

In jest we receive a gift,

That can’t be taken hold of.

It changes form at the touch,

And slips betwixt our fingers.

Altho’ we’d own the seas,

The tides will bow to none:

Always there to tease us,

To dance within their flow.

By the time we can accept,

The moment’s passed already.

It’s not our place to allow it:

For ’t will happen either way .

Life cares not to be thanked,

For what value it’s ascribed:

We can merely undergo it,

Or turn away — and cease to live.