The Circle Poem by Justin Reamer

As a composer creates anew,
A decomposer destroys the decrepit.
Notes and music form verses,
But the old fade away.

Nature creates new organisms,
Only to die away in the end,
Slowly broken down, bit by bit,
As atoms transfer to the soil.

But Nature suffers catastrophe,
Something that can't be stopped,
An inferno consuming everything
In its own wake.

There is always an aftermath:
Nature replenishes itself,
Convalescing slowly from
The inflicted wound,
The damage it suffered.

As the wound heals,
Flora and fauna fill the gap,
And once complete,
The moss will grow, at full height,
Hiding the scar from within.