Here I lie
Life blooms around me
Beauty, scarred by an undying flower.
Lives, so fragile, rise and fall
Beauty quickly turns to ashes
Made all the more lovely by destruction
Is there, then, such beauty
In an undying flower?
The wind blows, then fades away
Mighty trees grow and sway, but they, too, fall
The undying flower watches, ironically placed in a memory.
When life fades it is replaced by a memory
A weak and bendable thing
Do I, then, remember my wife?
United in death, our wishes were honored
But disrespected in life
Our lives marked by an undying flower
But does it hold such charm
As a single mortal rose
Which from its corpse, life grows?
Or should I be marked
By an unliving, undying flower
Long after I've decayed?
Should I be commemorated
Tied to humanity by a counterfeit bond?
Is it such an honor, then
To be marked by an undying flower?
3 comments:
This is such an amazing post. It really isn't like anything I've ever read before.
The golden lily, (you will understand), an undying love. Your poem is as beautiful as the flower you described. I love it.
An undying flower.
Truly prestigious
But a warning, heed this.
Time is undying
It alone lives
For a undying flower
It cannot last the immortal hour.
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