Opposite of Infinite

- 10 -

10 - Flowers

I've tried to refrain from using too many flower analogies

but it's difficult, you see,

because our fleeting infinity was, is, and always will be

such a synonym of those petals that it may as well be a metaphor

to describe them.

in addition, the lack of eternity that all plants possess

acts as an ironic reassurance

that, as beautiful and captivating as a plant may be in bloom,

it is always destined for death.

a slow, shrivelling sort of death,

wilting and sullenly beaten by the breeze

as it gradually loses the will to live.

decaying petals falling to the ground like

wind filled parachutes

or waltzing away with the boneless, handless wind

that it is as invisible as something that isn't there

and taking joy in the new path

that such a sightless thing has set for it,

darting and dipping in swirled shapes and formations

a little like that paint

I told you about earlier.

do you remember?

I was almost certainly one of the fallen petals.

I felt the wind

but decided that it was too risky to trust something

I couldn't see.

too heavy.

preferring to rest

beneath the large, towering red tulip

that was gently drooping with a weight similar to that of

what forces a raindrop to fall

than to be carried away.

surrounded by the seeds

that had exploded from the violent flower

and now looked like little specks of dried up gold dust

from a time long forgotten.

pecked away by birds before I could protest.

before I, myself was pressed down

into a flat, 2D formation,

holding no memories but the vibrancy of my colour

as I became a mere decoration

on some soon to be forgotten greeting card.