They hang in the trees, broken and dying as they weep. Mourning their own inevitable passage to oblivion. Never again shall these once sanguine blossoms be nurtured by those stellar works of the heavens. Never again will these decorous beings be touched by the grace of light.
The rain intensifies, one by one they are cast away from these branches, falling to the earth like limp bodies cut loose of the gallows. These that perish before me now carry salubrious affect against the future for it is their demise which will take part in sustaining the life yet to be birthed of this soil.
Once again I am here to wait, to watch, to see the great serpent. The one whose sustenance is derived from the frame of his own being: for life is but a snake and this snake eats his own tail. Doomed are we who are but scales upon the serpent's back.
Photons rain down upon that which I know to be myself and at once I know: only the photon can vanquish the serpent. If freedom is the aim, then kill the serpent we must lest we spend the eternal present toiling as factotums to the serpent: slavery eternal, escape, death is not.
The other day during the rain I saw a dying blossom, took the pic and wrote this in one go. I thought why not share with Ello? So excuse typos and understand taste is subjective.