i saw it fall
dripping down
off a petal of a rose
to the ground
with it arose
a beautiful sensation
of glories questions
for which to pose
"hows the life of the love
when the loving aren't worth living?"
"whens nothing said, enough when words
of something said can't be forgiving?"
"can a soul be reached by touching
the blinding spirt for in which it lyes?"
"should we care when the caring
stop believing and forever dies?"
floating like broken feathers
withered and weathered
the petals of the questioned rose
begin to drift
lost to dirt of the earth forever
but a new birth
will bring more questions to view
for life is a circle we trust
more so than never
life will remember us