Isn't it weird?
We find death beautiful.
The slow rotting of the leaves in the fall,
We reward old age among the elders in society.
Yet we fear death,
We fear the outcome; what will happen.
Sometimes we are annoyed with death,
at least among plant life.
We rake up the leaves,
we love them until they coat our yards,
becoming a burden.
With dead flowers,
sometimes people keep them.
Sometimes.
Other times they are thrown away,
a carcas of a beautiful life.
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 10:31 AM UTC
Isn't it weird?
We find death beautiful.
The slow rotting of the leaves in the fall,
We reward old age among the elders in society.
Yet we fear death,
We fear the outcome; what will happen.
Sometimes we are annoyed with death,
at least among plant life.
We rake up the leaves,
we love them until they coat our yards,
becoming a burden.
With dead flowers,
sometimes people keep them.
Sometimes.
Other times they are thrown away,
a carcas of a beautiful life.
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