Metamorphic Simplicity

Driven by a lack of something
you do not know, nevertheless
crave. Spinning in a circle of
flowers, myriad colors dreamt.

And in time, wither. The meat
of my bones turned to rock salt,
Mixed in dirt, with the flowers,
Forever spinning in earth’s grave

My blood that speaks to me through
riddles, of iron and towers far away
it calls brethren, mountains made in
part of me, you and everyone besides

I leave not a trace of soul,
Loving heart, of timeless
wisdom bore on my bones,
memories stuck in my mind

Only bloody iron, calcified bone,
Nitrogenic lungs, carbonized
pieces of life passing on through.

Are all that I will leave when
I am spirited away rotting into
the entrails of the earth

To be regrown, anew into many new
forms, of flowers and iron and
towers and others like me still,
Whom, driven by a lack of something,
Myriad colors dream.

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