Poem: Some Have Grown And Fallen

Some Have Grown And Fallen

and some will stay tall so long
that it is impossible to count 
the days, the years.  It is too long
for any of us to know,
is too much.  That is the way.
Do not mourn against that,
thinking some have nothing:
they know the world as they do,
know it well in one way.
It may be only a season to you,
it may be nothing more.
It matters and does not matter.
It is a way, a scale in time,
a rhythm for that which they are.
It is not that their is no sadness
in even what passes that way,
but their is a difference.
It is all the same, but
it is not at all the same.
How can it be understood?
I do know something, 
a flaming thing burns through,
but flames cast flickering shadows.
The edges cannot be made clearer.

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