The Fallen

I suppose it would be easy to make this a post about death, the end, and all those mortal conundrums. But then where would that leave life, light and beauty?

I suppose it would be easy to focus on the dirt and the mud. But where would that leave that fighting life, that new blade of life?

I suppose this could have been a sullied ending. But it just as well could be a benign beginning.

I suppose things could be anything. People could be any one. Something one minute. Someone another. But where would that leave me.

I suppose this isn't about flowers or the grass, beginnings or the end, or anything of that sort. But then again, I suppose this isn't about me.