The spider lily bloomed for three days: an outpouring of scented desire, a white silk sail leading to a heart of love. Then failing, rips and tears, petals drying, dying by degrees, while new seeds hide among the wreckage.
Butterflies struggle to stay aloft. Monarch, viceroy, scales torn, destined to travel no more south or north than this place.
One half of a pair mated for life, a goose swims in circles, searching for its meaning; arising, crying, stumbling, seeking its other outside.
Crushed and broken, torn and tattered every living thing drags onward. Like bits of broken glass in the sea, we keep moving in and out with the tides. No more clinging tighter, no more walls of possessions, Life is tatters.