rebirth

A man in a world at the edge of an obsequy
Where its peo­ple could no longer see their reflection
In the lake once sur­round­ed by botany 

There is noth­ing in sight de­pict­ing perfection
Every­one around him is unattached
He sought to cre­ate his own world of protection 

Us­ing the dy­ing grasp of na­ture, the man snatched
To­geth­er pieces of bro­ken thoughts, ideas, then painted
Them on his last can­vas and a new per­cep­tion hatched 

Un­fold­ing be­fore his eyes, no longer tainted
Mold­ing from a demise he once called home
A new fas­ci­na­tion with which he be­came acquainted 

The man looked past the for­mer mutilation
And held in his palm a sin­gle carnation
 
 

—aman­da maurer

Flom­mist Aman­da Mau­r­er likes art and bugs. She is also an in­tro­vert­ed artist with a lot to say. Heavy tea drinker. Finds joy in sim­ple as­pects of life. Copy­right © 2017 Aman­da Mau­r­er. Pic­tured: Paul Cézanne, Still life with cher­ries and peach­es (cropped), cir­ca 1883–87, source.

MOR D’ARTÍCULOS  MOR FLOMM !

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