White petals, abstract against the dull brown earth,
the forgotten remnants of splendid beauty.

Decayed and faded over time, eventually forgotten,
the vivid scars of the timeless battle between life and death.

Lost to time and memory, mortal imperfection against eternity.

A rippling field of symmetric green blades in the wind,
infinite conformity in a sea of unrest and regret.

Life stained brown by parasitic flames, lost forever.

If only the strongest survive, does not death then hold the power?

Is death not then the maestro of this fateful overture?

A diamond may be forever, but life is far from eternal,
only through death can we discover true perfection.

Without life, there is no death,
without good there can be no evil.

Without imperfection, there can be no contrast on which to base perfection.

Death is the result of life's eternal alchemy,
it is the end of the beginning, yet the beginning of eternity.

The end is our own creation, death being a concept of our own design
Through mortality man gains eternity through his death into life.