Life and death and beauty

Death is meant to be ugly, tasteless, colourless, lifeless. Isn't it? When a butterfly dies, it is no less beautiful in shape and colour. Certainly, it is not flitting about, dancing in the wind, but it still holds something.  It holds that something for only so long before decay brings it back to the earth that once sustained it.

These are dead, so why do I see them as so beautiful?

They too will eventually become mulch; fine fragments of what they once were, no longer holding the rich reds, yellows, and browns.

Why do they live such short lifespans? Because beauty is fleeting. Yes they may appear beautiful as butterfly's or leaves now, but soon enough they will be a part of the earth, contributing to another beauty, no longer beautiful in and of themselves.

Life nor death can take away

Agape come Your way.

Sight upon sight You woo my heart,

You who've been from the very start.

Life nor death can cause me forget

All the grace you have let.

You who've made this wondrous sight,

You who've made my darkness bright.

Life nor death can bring me despair.

The price's been paid, the burden beared.

Your beauty has already won out

Over the wretched life-drought.