The seeds of death are intimate to the birth of life
To strike away the false and clumsy, shear
To oblivion the inexact.
Their pact with the unexpected shreds failure to conform
To necessity to strip the rags of rot
From existent purpose that permits
All living things the opportunity
To join in pervasive unity.
But the consuming skills of destruction can exult
In dominations that exceed all creativities.
Uncontrolled it can enfold all life,
Strap all effort to create with killing furies
That invite total termination of the flame.
The game must be played with cunning caution
That permits the final glowing sparks
To re-ignite the dust.
For dust is ever eager to begin again.
It knows no why or where, no here or there
To invest its possibilities.
It sits and waits in everlasting patience
For that light touch that can crack open
The center of the universe.