Fretsaws and daffodils

We are only flowers
In reality

Only!

Flowers and birdsong

Ephemeral energies

Rotting before god

Pollen to rust

Ashes to meat

The meek shall inherit the ashes

Fretsaws and daffodils
Petals and bones

Flapping in quantum sadness

We are entities from eternity
Filling out time
With minor bursts of flagrant dilapidation

They drift they sigh

Fill a dead dogs eye

With the poisoned trail of their fragrant leaving

Just having a little crack

At life without end

As if it made an angelic dink of a difference

As to whether or not

It all makes any kind of sense.