Why are you storing the remains
of departed souls in fertile soil?
How can you fail to see apple blossoms
or acres of golden grain here or
a park filled with laughter
and bouncing balloons
instead of this morbid warehouse
packed inside the Earth,
filled with cocoons that will never contain
anything again?
Lift your sights to the true meanings of
life and transition.
Behold the splendor of the butterfly
in flight, floating so freely
upon sun warmed currents
of fresh spring air,
shedding not one tear over
the caterpillar’s death.
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