The Withering

In the moment they are cut
flowers begin a slow death
even the crystal vase
cool water and bit of sugar
fail to stave off the eventual

No matter how many times
we change the water
or add more sugar
soon their heads begin to bow
the petals brown and curl

One by one they wither and fall
becoming nothing more than
a particle in some ones memory

And such is the life of a muse
cut from where ever they maybe found
experiencing the euphoria of love
and the heated passion of lust
we take what we get from this
and create beautiful art our minds eye

But every thought has its day
every season a time to stay
then comes the withering

Before we know it we are face down
being drug through the gutter of misery
it is here that as an artist we scramble
to gather everything we can find
to create something beautiful

Because anguish, pain and despair
are the elements responsible
for creating more beautiful art
than love and lust ever could