Passings And so it is that all things work in cycles In beginnings and endings, Births, deaths and rebirths, Destruction and rebuilding, For that is the way of nature And the cycle of the Wheel. The new will forever Stretch away all That is old and outmoded And detrimental to our progress, Not always with our consent Or discretion. People come and go in our lives Leaving occasional tokens Of their presence, influence and passing: A house, a baby, a feeling... And then they are gone Like a scent stolen By a summer breeze. Others affect us in ways That we could never imagine Upon first meeting them, When eyes make the first contact And we discern In our deepest self The connection of future friend, lover, spouse; Not always recognizing That identification On a conscious level. Oft times if we knew In that first meeting Of the pain that would ensue With the passage of time And the continuation Of that relationship, We would flee With our lives and our souls intact, Never daring to glance that way again, Gladly forgoing any pleasure That connection would have delivered In favor of the blissful lack of anguish Should that meeting have never occurred; Embracing instead the void that would have been pain Had we been but A little more careful, A little more insightful, And a little less impulsive. Yet then, we would never have lessons, We would never have the joy of love And the wisdom of the Ages. We would never grow and we would never live. If we guided our own progress and chose our own lessons There would be none. To feel love and to chance pain Or to feel safe and chance nothing, I would choose love.