Echoes of the past

Staring upon the work of those before me,
the shining beauty of immortality,
It was mine, and mine alone, and it was my duty to care for it.
Perhaps immortality is just constant renewal, and perfection is the final result,
concentrated in a single blossom bud.
Who's leaves shine greener than ever before,
rest peacefully here, forevermore.
Yet one can't be content; such thoughts do wither us down the track.
Still, the tree shines happily,
gleaming upon my bonsai tree.