Spotty Logic (spottylogic) wrote,
Spotty Logic


Did I write this? I think I was mourning over some recent relationship complications, maybe during the month that Whines and I spent apart back in March.

Nothing good should die. Those leaves
which strove to reach the sun, should fall
when the sun itself forgets to shine.
A weed that grows from the rot beneath
the fallen rose gives thanks; it sees
the love that passed away to give
it life, and strives to be the rose

itself. Life from life, dawn from dawn,
we draw our strength from the good done
that we cannot repay. What we
consume gives strength; the bones we eat,
those bones then let us stand. We heal,
we mend, we live through gentle hands

that give despite their wounds, that
help the weed to grow. The weed
sees the sun, and not the blood

drawn by its thorn, until it throws
its blossom open, petals red
from the hands that gave it life.

Nothing good should die. Children that walk
the cemetary paths, on earth
itself grown fat from fond farewells,
may read this truth in marble, told
until the stone words themselves fade,
and puzzle out this final gift,

and say, "from such flesh did we come."
Tags: poetry
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