Nothing Gold Can Stay

The irony in this post is that, a few hours ago, I was planning on blogging about how things were going so great and about how I was anticipating a turn for the worst. I was going to tell myself how foolish that was, that I should live in, and just be happy with, that seemingly incorrigible bliss. I was going to tell myself that this poem, the one that I memorized at a young age and used to justify my pessimism, might actually be a lie:

Nothing Gold Can Stay
by Robert Frost

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf,
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay.


And now, here I am. Stricken with bad news but spared many of the details. Here I am filling in the gaps in my knowledge with tragic hypotheticals. Here I am, sad about and helpless towards a situation I can do nothing about but would give everything to change. Here I am, surrounded by leaves, realizing how I took so many flowers for granted. And here I, feeling a wonderful and peaceful dawn rising into a sickly and blinding day.

Nothing gold can stay.