petal

when I look at you, what do I see
i see your curve, your fold, embracing reality
the breeze, the sun, hope
i see a color, maybe just a little bit of scent
yes I can see your scent
if you are a red rose, I can see it
if you are the slightest pink of an Angel's Trumpet, I can see it
i know your nightly aroma as it is alighted by the rays of the moon
but you're not the whole
you're a relief of what has been let go, when you have done all that you can do
just exactly what were you to do
you were part of the lure, the mecca
you were the one that called out, that screamed your presence to the universe
a display of flagrancy 
shone
proud and deliberate
really, though, you are a tragedy because of what you were once part of, now cast away, now finished
Van Gogh, he saw you violently and smited you across the page
vividly
but you are the page, a page of many among many, a story, but only one piece of the whole
a clue of what the whole is like, of something more beautiful, of something more complete
something more profound
an announcement of all that can be contained within
an announcement to the world without

without

within

is there truly an end
for what you were, what you are, is really where life begins
such a tragedy, your end, but now it all begins, and where this new life of which you have been, where does it send
curving outwards, falling outwards to the edge, to eternity
a means to an end are the cycles of life

paths

with curves

with bends