MusingsPoetry

Anything on Everything

When anything matters
everything doesn’t matter.
When the roses blossom,
the space around it shrinks
giving way for repelling hues
that wither at noon.
The noon owes the sun
for its beauty, a debt
that will never be paid
but the sun claims to give
freely yet withholds its rays at twilight.
At twilight it goes to sleep but stays awake all night on the bed of the other side.
The sun at noon …
these are friends without a choice.
The roses at noon …
then ends without a voice.
But they need each other,
till another day goes further.
These companies are complex
embodied in everything matter
when anything is the order
and nothing really matters.

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