Life is like the raindrop That moves across the rose Accumulating moisture From the petal as it grows. But always in the sadness Of the pathway it will trace Is the moisture now discarded That no longer has a place. Life is like a blossom That peeps out of the spring, A butterfly transmogrified To summer coloured wings; But then the pinch of autumn In frost on ripened stem With winter cleans the branches In cathartic requiem. Life is like the lion cub That's playful when he's young But terrifies the jungle When a king he has become. But always in his moving A feebleness has grown Till younger lions roaring Take his place upon the throne. Life is like the flicker Of a candle in the night A beacon that will beckon To guide us with its light. But when the flame has vanished And darkness will enfold There's someone still remembers The warmth that it told.