I walk through the grass with my scuffed converses
The spring dew clings to the fabric
I see a daisy in the clearing soaking the rays of the sun
I admit I was jealous of the freedom of the flower
Still I go onwards
A butterfly glides through the mossy hollowed log
Caught in a spiders web
The spider seeing the caught fool
Descends and dispatches the poor insect
Like an agent of death
It's true nature
Seeing that
I remember that life is a being of rebirth