Parts of life remain destroyed buildings,

reminder of the war between desire and action,

 

between past and present, between you and me.

I have never known how to forgive the flowers,

 

accept they bloom and fade. Thanks to the snow

the sun is blinding on winter days.

 

The misery of rain allows germination,

the plant to leaf, to stretch and reach, to seek and seed.

 

I will always want to know what I suspect,

that the line that joins the dots is random

 

and the result Rorschach. My trail a test

I interpret again and again. Searching my pockets

 

for another meaning.