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My mind racing behind a cloud of smoke.  The systematic deterioration of my life's work. yet most of the time I sit smiling, open minded to the possibility's, and to the actions that require an opposite and equal reaction to the options that lay dormant .  Nothing came to mind.  Rather id watch my own demise then be called to make a claim on another's life.  So back to my decomposition a composition I'm very familiar with. My aid might be just inadequately enough to began the healing processes of someone who needs the primordial elements from my destruction to find the reasons and meaning in their own lives.  I know I'm not obligated to pick at the scabs but my empathy wont allow them to hurt alone. Those influences that persuade, to succumb to healing.  To not watch the final grains of sand funnel down.  To accept that by holding on there is not another turn in this mortal life of flesh and bone.  Even the prettiest of flowers must deteriorate to live again, to blossom`

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