Witching the Stars #13
Fragile as spindles of crystals.
Rarified, blemishless jewels.
One life lived with flair, with intention.
One fall, and one beauty, death cools.
No mortal can fathom the reaches
a soul, flesh departed, attains
Too precious, this single occurrence
of life -
but then, no life remains.
And yet not just one sunset troubles
the otherwise apatite sky.
But evening on evening befalls us
by thousands, yet none can say why.