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Ephemera
On many a summer, the Ephemera,the flies that exist for only a day,had fluttered about the old oak,enjoyed life and felt happy and if, for a mommet,one of the tiny creatures rested on one of his large fresh leaves, the tree would always say ,"poor little creature!Your whole life consists only of a single day,how very short.It must be quite melancholy."
"Melancholy!What do you mean?" the little Ephemera would always reply.
"Everything around me is so wonderfully bright and warm,and beautiful,that is makes me joyous. "
"But only for one day,and then it is all over."
"Over!"repeatedly the fly,"what is the meaning of all over?Are you all over too?"
"No,I shall very likely live for thousands of your days,and my day is whole seasons long,indeed it is so long that you could never reckon.
"No?Then I don't understand you.You may have thousands of my days.But I have thousands of momments in which I can be merry and happy.Does all the beauty of the world would cease when you die?"
"No" replied the tree"it will certainly last much longer,infinitely longer than I can even think of."
"Well,then," said the little fly,"we have the same time to live,only we reckon differently."
I wish I were the Ephemera------simple happiness.I'm working on it.
