More Than What You See

Are we fleetingly tragic souls?
 
Who barely have the time in the falling of a petal
 
To scratch the soil of this earth, less make a hole
 
Our mark, covered by sodden dirt which settles? 
 
Perhaps not, and here we do own nothing, 
 
But this ineffable moment in our hands
 
But which is only ephemeral as the passing of spring
 
In these thinning fugacious lands 
 
So I will die after this impermanent spring
 
Summer suns burning away my volatile body
 
Into the earthen ground of dust and nothing 
 
Until I will bloom and fail again, trying to show there are more than petals on me. 





-anna sluder 

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