I see a single petal, Floating down Slowly Taking its time, Without a care, Towards the damp, cold earth. The ignorant little petal does not know That its life will soon end. It does not know That the closer it gets to dirt, The closer it gets to Wilting, decaying, becoming part Of the earth. Becoming one. It does not know That the place it came from Was a mess of overgrown thorns Reaching out To whoever Whatever It can grab Pulling it in. All the innocent little petal knows Is that the only thing That it should worry about Is marching on, Holding its head up, Living life as it can. It knows that the moment It fell from the rose It began a cycle A cycle of life And death. All it knows Is that life Must go on.