Hope

The death of a flower

Beauty incarnate.

Vibrant and sweet.

It hangs for a moment.

Then to the ground it sinks.

 

Floats through the air.

Tumbles and dances to the ground.

It's cycle is ending.

But it doesn't seem down.

 

With it's dying reflections of light.

Its' last hint of chlorophyll in its' veins.

It struggles and strains.

To be what it is.

To shine forth its light.

 

No regret.

No remorse.

Just beautiful

of course!

 

Not dead but dying.

Then dead but not gone.

Sacrificing its energy.

To the earth.

To be reborn.