Mosaic A Infinite
Life is a beautiful flower which reeks of death;
but like withered flower every mortal sees (ignores) death.
Life, you, spiral of rotating disaster,
I remained ignorant to variegated contradictions and submissions
trying beholding calm at its core;
But, sometimes bring submersible instinct to a revolt aiming to connect unforeseeable glimpses;
Like a droplet on a holy dusty figurine slithering down its unslaked lustful fingers,
touching without knowing and falling whence it came.