A marble and garden capsule
fills with life and death.
Plantation that will thrive
or be neglected.
Guilt builds with neglect.
I witness fates too soon,
severed from this world:
a fraction of reality.
I could've tried harder,
entering brick and wood,
but I only stared through glass,
seeing fate fall on flora.
Taxing, it is, to keep up.
Routines intertwine,
taking away priorities,
building unnoticed savagery.
...but she stays close,
closest in the world,
closer to my soul,
set on destination and clarity.
Here, inside,
everything dies,
neglect or not.
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