Zassou

I've got a bone to pick
with this falling star,
trailing far,
across the sky,
down rainbow paths
I catch gleaming glimpses
of the nights that passed
and wars that
fed the masses
while I watch
as this star crashes,
collides with my palm,
bursts into ashes.
My fingers collapse
and wrap themselves
around this
powdered substance
without thinking
for an instance
of my shrinking existence
emphasizing
the downsizing
of the setting moon
whose heart's been swooned
by the ripples
of the pool
as I kiss the wind
with one last breath
before diving into the depths
death has no hold on me here.
It's fixated,
fated to the surface
I now swim without a purpose
without cause
and without light
I put up my fists to fight
but fights are proven useless
and I'm slowly losing interest
in what I came here for
There was another
in store,
another filling
little dancing flower spinning
round our heads
rooted in our flower beds
instead of in the fields
where I belong
it's wrong where I'm at
because if you ask
if the face I wear
is just a mask
I'll tell you yes,
and I bet you'll guess,
from my useless, fruitless seeds,
cowering in the shadows
I'm no flower,
just a weed.