Escape Poem by Patti Masterman

Nothing here shall ever forget
How flowers rot, from underneath,
And fruit, when only pierced the skin,
To the circling wasp's bequeathed.

Nothing here will gain a thing,
Though time reversed or stood it's place;
A thousand years still looks the same,
But first to go is always the face.

Man makes his dreary circlet of days,
Ever brief, though filled with fate-
And flings open wide Pandora's box,
Hoping somehow his soul will escape.