The Fallen

Lying fallen on winter’s earth
neither the beginning nor the end.
On a May morning whispering summer’s promise
warmth shone on the open bloom.

Receptive and receiving, attraction of life
pollen brought by buzzing wings.
Open receptacle, filled with the other half of life
union of two becoming one.

Swelling with progress, fed by the living,
miracle of sunlight, flesh enclosing seed.
Reaching the limits, the fruition
as days start to fade, autumn steals the light.

In the encroaching darkness, turning bright
vivacious red, and succulent flesh.
Temptation to be plucked, to be devoured,
but instead a fall, victim of the storm.

Lying on sodden soil, once shining beauty
turns a darkened over-ripe.
Shrivelling flesh, melting to the clay
in rotting demise, their is hope.

For inside the outer coats of skin
and soft tissue, seeds, the beginning 
after the end, decay renews,
life rising from decomposing flesh.

- Ciaran Burke
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