Cycle Of Being: A Two-Part Reflection Poem by ashok jadhav

Part I — Seasons as Stages of Life
Spring arrives with trembling light and green,
A world reborn, yet fragile in its bloom.
Youth walks within its freshness, full of hope,
Uncertain, eager, dazzled by the sun.
The heart expands with every promised dawn,
Unknowing of the storms that time will bring.
Summer rises, strong and unabashed,
Its days long with the labor of the sun.
Adulthood moves with purpose, toil, and fire,
Each choice a weight that shapes the growing self.
The air is thick with yearning and with sweat,
And joy comes mingled with responsibility.
Autumn falls with leaves in golden flight,
Reflection deepens in the shortening light.
Middle years behold both harvest and decay,
And memory collects what action leaves behind.
We reckon what we planted, what we lost,
And trace the path that brought us to this dusk.
Winter follows, quiet, cold, and still,
Its white expanse a mirror to the soul.
Old age moves slow, and yet with dignity,
Each breath a gift, each step a testament.
The cycle closes, yielding to the earth,
Where life renews beyond our measured time.
Part II — The River of Being
A spring appears among the stones and moss,
Its water clear and trembling with new force.
The world awakes in scent, in light, in song,
And life begins its journey unaware
Of all the bends and obstacles ahead.
The stream grows swift, embracing every turn,
Its current carrying both strength and fear.
The banks expand, the trees lean toward its flow,
And growth is measured in each rising wave.
The river claims the land with patient will,
And shapes the earth as action shapes the self.
Then comes the stretch where waters slow and darken,
The summer force gives way to autumn weight.
Leaves drift into the current, drift away,
And currents twist with sediment and grief.
Decline is quiet, yet it teaches depth,
And memory pools in eddies of the mind.
At last the river finds a wider plain,
Its course renewed by tributaries unseen.
The water glows beneath forgiving skies,
And even what was lost returns in part.
Life bends again toward growth, toward the sun,
A cycle turning, endless as the sea.