[long forgotten]

in times of shifting climates and fading seasons i find myself completely and utterly insane with envy for the flowers and the trees, it is their time, time to thrive, to reach out for the sun and dance on the cool breeze and feel infinite and perfume the air with their innocence, and be enveloped in their own narcissistic beauty, and be lost in the moment, these moments of granduer, and with knowledge that in time they will wither and fade and be forgotten like ashes in the wind, like dust of bones, and forever be erased by the seasons to come and by the new flowers to fill their spaces, but in all honesty it truly does not matter and i am just as beautiful and timeless as each flower that will dissapear from sight and more importantly from mind like the ghosts of lost lovers to torturous to remember, i am these flowers in their prime waving my hands in the wind, dancing in the pure fresh air of radiance, knowing that one day i will be long gone, long forgotten by the likes of you.