It is not dying, just forever.

It is not dying.
Not the flower.
Not the cells.
Not the meal in front of you.
Not fish.
But perhaps the dancing river
which cycles through Earth and Sky.

It is not dying.
Not the cat.
Not the tree.
Not the latest trend.
Not flame.
But perhaps the fire
which burns everlastingly,
casting its gaze over all sparks.

It is not dying.
Symbols.
Alchemical recipes.
Haloed words
Which animate the air.
Resonating through the ages.
Despite the rhythms of existence.

It is not dying.
This.
Immortal.
Poetic vision draws forth.
And those few that walk into the fulfilments
Of promises made amidst dark despair and disparity.
Faith which was realised through movement and constancy.

It is not dying.
Nothing.
Infinite transformations
Despite transcendental sublimities.
We enjoy BOTH.
And between alertness and relaxation,
Eternal expressions of endless fascination.