Perspective

The living and the dead of life,
How different can they rhyme;
Except for a matter of perspective,
And a tiny bit of time?
Only time is of the essence,
In the face of introspection:
For everything stays the same,
In matters of evolution.
The brief twinklings of beauty,
Are the ugly harbingers of eternity;
The fleeting decays of yesterday,
The erstwhile hallmarks of modernity;
The arrogance of muscle power,
And the invincibility of youth,
The complacency of beauty,
And the infallibility of truth:
These are all no happenstance;
But all lost in perspective,
Amidst clouds of ignorance.
The good and bad of life,
The true and the fake;
They are all mirages of perspective,
Of a self-invented make.