Life is spent in decay,

the unraveling of structures at the mercy of time and space.

It lives on the breeze, in the swamps, and underfoot.

It is the force that thrusts beauty to the undergrowth

Reds, purples, indigos and buttery-yellows–burst upon the iris

Quickly synapses fire to the the brain–

Roots and ryzomes tangled in a subterranean vortex


An elixir to the soul, a visual tonic yielding a floral display.

By nature fed by polarity towards a singularity.

Until the blossoms unravel once more–

-Adam K.

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