Sometimes I throw
petals to the wind.
I expect them to
dwindle there--
To dance in the
astral sky,
But they rarely do.
I turn my back and
flee
When I run from
floating petals,
But the breezes
bring them closer.
They whip about my
face
Painting dark and
dreary scenes
With wisps of
wondrous hues.
Why I ever toss them
wayward
I will never truly
know.
Their presence is
perfection
And their absence
loss of heart.
Quite often they
besiege me
When my mind is
filled with wonder.
Perhaps one day I
won't mind--
They'll encompass me
forever.
Maybe they'll sail
onward
On a clear and
pulsing current,
But I fear their
bright existence
For it marks the end
of mine.
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