A falling footstep
lagging behind in slow time
how far shall it reach?

A white halo there
Abysmal luminescence
will the journey end?

Broken bushes here
burnt shrubberies over there
where is the gardener?

He must have tended
these dead flowers once in bloom
is the halo safe?

As it draws on me
a question was realized
am I sent to burn?

To lay in the pyre
a funeral bed is set
will the ashes stay?

The gardener comes
a sweep of eternal hands
another dead flower.