A hollow log was once a tree
Tall and beautiful
Fruits and flowers in spring
Deep luscious vermilion in summer
Red and brown and yellow golden sunlight fall
Sparkling pure clean snow in winter
Whether it was just natural to die
Or some coincidence
I do not know
But the tree had fallen
No longer
flower or vermilion or sunlight or pure
Only empty
Nihilist
Decomposition
Moisture creates fungi and bacteria within
bugs and maggots and worms
They feed
On the corpse of loveliness
Until the nothingness is nothing