Renwei Diversity

The Most Beautiful Flower

The Most Beautiful Flower

Unknown

The park bench was deserted as I sat down to read

Beneath the long,straggly branches of an old willow tree.

Disillusioned by life with good reason to frown,

For the world was intent on dragging me down.

And if that weren’t enough to ruin my day,

A young boy out of breath approached me, all tired from play.

He stood right before me with his head tilted down

And said with great excitement, “Look what I found!”

In his hand was a flower, and what a pitiful sight,

With its petals all worn – not enough rain, or too little light.

Wanting him to take his dead flower and go off to play,

I faked a small smile and then shifted away.

But instead of retreating he sat next to my side

And placed the flower to his nose and declared with overacted surprise,

“It sure smells pretty and it’s beautiful, too.

That’s why I picked it; here, it’s for you.”

The weed before me was dying or dead.

Not vibrant of colors: orange, yellow or red.

But I knew I must take it, or he might never leave.

So I reached for the flower, and replied, “Just what I need.”

But instead of him placing the flower in my hand,

He held it mid-air without reason or plan.

It was then that I noticed for the very first time

That weed-toting boy could not see: he was blind.

I heard my voice quiver; tears shone in the sun

As I thanked him for picking the very best one.

“You’re welcome,” he smiled, and then ran off to play.

Unaware of the impact he’d had on my day.

I sat there and wondered how he managed to see

A self-pitying woman beneath an old willow tree.

How did he know of my self-indulged plight?

Perhaps from his heart, he’d been blessed with true sight.

Through the eyes of a blind child, at last I could see.

The problem was not with the world; the problem was me.

And for all of those times I myself had been blind,

I vowed to see the beauty in life,

And appreciate every second that’s mine.

And then I held that wilted flower up to my nose

And breathed in the fragrance of a beautiful rose

And smiled as I watched that young boy,

Another weed in his hand,

About to change the life of an unsuspecting old man.

Renwei Diversity

All for the Best

All for the Best

By Edgar A. Guest

Things mostly happen for the best.

However hard it seems to-day,

When some fond plan has gone astray

Or, what you’ve wished for most is lost

An’ you sit countin’ up the cost

With eyes half-blind by tears o’grief

While doubt is chokin’ out belief,

You’ll find when all is understood

That what seemed bad was really good.

Life can’t be counted in a day.

The present rain that will not stop

Next autumn means a bumper crop.

We wonder why some things must be-

Care’s purpose we can seldom see-

An’ yet long afterwards we turn

To view the past, an’ then we learn

That what once filled our minds with doubt

Was good for us as it worked out.

I’ve never know an hour of care

But that I’ve later come to see

That it has brought some joy to me.

Even the sorrows I have borne,

Leavin’ me lonely an’ forlorn

An’ hurt an’ bruised an’ sick at heart,

An’ though I could not understand

Why I should bow to Death’s command,

That it was really better so.

Things mostly happen for the best.

So narrow is our vision here

That we are blinded by a tear

An’ stunned by every hurt an’ blow

Which comes to-day to strike us low.

An’ yet some day we turn an’ find

That what seemed cruel once was kind.

Most things, I hold, are wisely planned

If we could only understand.