a poem inspired by a quote from a book

"But now I know that our world is no more permanent than a wave rising on the ocean. Whatever our struggles and triumphs, however we may suffer them, all too soon they bleed into a wash, just like watery ink on paper" – Memoirs of a Geisha, Arthur Golden.

The wave will rise on the ocean

As sure as the sun will rise tomorrow.

Our troubles shall soon pass

As sure as the morning mist will vanish

When faced with the sun's early heat.

This transience ought to be rejoiced —

Should it not?

Alas the same is true for our achievements,

Whether they be grand or of little consequence.

Sooner or later, nature will enforce

Its inevitable equilibrium.

And we can only take confidence

In the knowledge that all beings

Experience ephemeral struggles and

Ephemeral triumphs.

For all too soon they bleed into a wash,

Just like watery ink on paper