Life is beautiful - a poem

We sit here in our rooms
Wonder what has happened today
That the sweetest of our dreams
Has been ruthlessly brushed away
What will happen? We, afraid, ask
How, pray, will we live anymore
It is death that awaits our knock
And far away sits distraught hope
Outside, like a feather let go
Snow falls softly from the sky
And , silent, so as not to disturb,
Alights like a tear on the eyes of a bride
The sun, mellowed to a distant white
Lets the clouds take it away
And, from behind the shy veil
Watches the day take its shape

Do you think the world outside
Cares for the pain you clutch so close?
Do you think that God above
Gives a care for this sorrow?
Do you think the waves at sea
Will fall silent to let you cry?
Do you think the rains will cease
When you look up to the sky?
Behold, my friend, the snow that falls
The skies that, calm, perform this feat
Care not for the coming end
For the millions of tears that you weep
The mountains that stand, sentinels of the land
Care not for the shivering cold
But instead for the moment of grace
When God himself drapes them with snow
The birds that fly give not a damn
For the chains that hold you down
But only that, wing or not,
They may soar high above the ground
The sun neither loves nor hates
The night that subtly darkness brings
For all it cares is, at its birth,
That it gives the koel heart to sing
The flowers that adorn the gardens
The trees that grow large and tall
Live in bliss at the height of spring
And have no worry about the fall
All the world in this moment now
In the beauty of God does so rejoice
And must it be tears that wet your eyes
When all around you is heavenly joy?
Behold, open your eyes, my friend
What you grieve is not your own
But this, this world, these skies, the breeze
The snow that so adorns
The birds that sing, the flowers that bloom
The million sights that rush your eyes
The flood of joy that drowns you through
And screams the truth of being alive:
Life, my friend, is not just pain
Not merely a wait till death
It is a frenzied, passionate dream,
A flight of fancy before we rest.