Illogical Paradox

The days flow softly from one to another
Like water drifting, calm, around a stone–
That’s the way we live; there is none other.

I’ve found myself a fragrant, tender flower
with petals tapered teardrops, white as bone.
Maybe I will never seek another.

At first, when this could only bother
me, my blossom told me, with a gentle tone,
“That’s the way we live. There is none other.”

The meadow me seem full enough to smother
all thoughts of keeping what I’ve found, alone,
but all is well. Why would I want another?

And though an errant cloud could always cover
us, I know that it will pass us on its own.
That’s the way we live; there is none other.

I’ve found myself a rare and special power,
And I won’t mind if, by some fate unknown,
I never do decide to find another–
That’s the way we live. There is none other.