In a world where beautiful things never last long, I hope to never be beautiful
Never to be a flower plucked from the ground to be caged in a vase at a north-facing window
Rarely feeling the sun hit my wilted petals
I crave to feel the drops of dew falling into my pistil and seeping into my seeds
A nostalgic reminder of the rain from last night’s storm
I hope to never be a beautiful thing
For beautiful things can’t be reminded of what makes them alive
I’d much rather be evidently worn and torn
Than live an existence in which I wasn’t able to feel
I want my leaves to drop slowly over time
Changing colors as the seasons do
I wish to be covered in spots of age, but not from restlessly sitting in a pot waiting to be thrown out
But from the ever-beaming rays of the careless sun, a sun that reminded me I was alive
In a world where beautiful things never last long, I don’t wish to be an exception
So leave me in the ground from which I grew, and I’ll do the rest myself
Seeking nourishment in the mysteries of my journey as did those before me
And when my time comes, I too will seep back into the soil
Being the nourishment for others as others were for me
I hope to never be a beautiful thing.
For beautiful things never last long.