I lie on my back staring at the canopy of color, listening to the sounds of the earth. The birds. The breeze. The leaves. The insects. The stream. My heart pleads, "Stay. Make this moment last a little longer." But the moment is gone. The sting of impermanence left its mark.
Why must the leaves change so quickly? If fall is death, why is it so beautiful? Perhaps it is only beautiful, because life will emerge again. Perhaps it is not death, but simply change.
There is beauty in the angst of impermanence, because it is a consequence of love and longing. There is beauty in suffering. Not all suffering, but some. I certainly don't advocate for apathy toward suffering, however, if there is no suffering or pain, there is no love or joy. The only way to end suffering is to end life. All becomes meaningless in the absence of opposition.
Although, the beauty of pain and suffering would be overshadowed by the beauty of life emerging. Reemerging. Not all beauty is equal. Perhaps I'm young and naïve, limited by my embodiment and finite logic, but I would like to behold the beauty of eternal life. Eternal progression inspires me and begets my actions toward greater goals in an ongoing process of becoming. Life is not static, and I do not see how eternal life could be static. There is endless potential within humanity, but it requires impermanence, suffering, and love.