I am old around the edgesMy petals are not as moist as they were
I've spread my pollen
I've reproduced
I live in the twilight
There is a modicum of existence
Even as the dusty mold drapes my body
There is quiescent envelopment
A dusty blanket draped over our shoulders
We are more fragile in the wind
We still enjoy the sun
But have less need for its sustenance
There is waning purpose
Diminishing consciousness
Yet absences of biological purpose
Give us routes and eddies
Into the molars of existence
It's here that we each decay
Into metamorphosis
It's only here we have
Individual opportunity
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