What a strange, strange
awful
terrifying
Beautiful thing it is
to be alive
It all hurts it really does
And then there is strength in that
It is said to beat
the lilac in the fall
Hit them all over good with a broom
Both stick and brush
And then in the spring they come back
More robust
The dust up puts the lilac into survival mode
And they thrive
Can’t discount that
A god
Perhaps
energies
Without doubt
Certainly
all far too complex
To be an accident
And if that is all
It isn’t half bad
