falling from above in poetry

the mandala
that intricate sand paintings they make
in the far east taking day taking weeks
that they destroy upon completion so as
to remind us how everything beautiful ends
to remind us how everything that ends is beautiful
how beauty and mortality do not negate each other
beauty and mortality as part and parcel of each other
the mandala
that’s what I’m talking about

this whole life is a trust fall
from your very first breath
to the final moment of death
you are falling
you are falling, I am falling
we are all falling together

maybe at that last moment of life
we will all be caught up in unseen loving arms
go on to some kind of next life or another
maybe at that first moment of death
we will all just go splat
wink out forever, who knows
but either way, this is all falling
this whole life is just falling
so something cool as you plummet
wave your arms, do a little dance
pretend you’re actually flying
while you still got the chance
it all starts and ends the same
but we can do it with style, either way
that’s what I’m talking about

the mandala
in some far off future
the mandala itself will be forgotten
gone in the fading of history’s mark
gone in humanity’s passing entirely
the mandala lost in the dust of time
and upon that day
the mandala will smile
because the mandala did it with style
before the universe all blew away
and that’s what I’m talking about
the mandala