“Beauty in Decay!
.
.
I cannot rest easy in the rush of the hour,
where voices echo sharp as machines,
and the headlines knit a web
of ash, steel, and sorrow.

Last evening, in a restful orchard,
I found an old tree split by storms.
Its hollow cradling a single blossom,
pale and trembling in the dusk.

I left it untouched,
its fragile defiance far brighter
than the glow of any city's burning light.”