To be a flower
What a miracle it is
To return year after year
All on the work of your own
You wither away but you never truely die
Bury me among the flowers
Let me rise when it is my time
To be reborn and renewed
And then decay and be reconsumed
That is what it feels like to be immortal
To be part of nature's tomb

This poem is about: 
Our world


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