It marks a day in history;
The first lonely seed is planted.
She smiles as her legacy is born;
Never shall this beauty be lost.
She has toiled and toiled,
And now her works will see fruition.
The sun rises and the sky clears;
The birds ruffle their feathers.
They prepare for flight and life,
The bright morning ahead.
They sail over the fields of buds,
The scent of flowers burst forth.
A bloomed flower is like the setting sun:
The end of a beginning,
The beginning of an end.
So the cycle begins anew,
And we look to our future with hope.