Fading Blooms

They blossom for a little while,

They wither and then die.
The vine dries up and blows away,
And time bids them good-bye.
 
There is no trace that they once lived.
The world will not recall
That they once twined within the grass,
Or that they bloomed at all.
 
But we are not like fading blooms,
That leave no trace behind.
For we can leave a lasting mark
That all who pass may find.
 
But it is up to us to choose
What our mark ought to be,
And it is those choices we make
The bind or set us free.
 
Yes, we can choose to be that bloom
That time withers away,
Or choose, instead, to leave a mark
To lights another’s way.
 
Psalm 103:14-16
The life of mortals is like grass, they flourish like a flower of the field; the wind blows over it and it is gone, and its place remembers it no more.