We know a little, before the begin of the play,
Our hidden secrets will be ours, till the end to stay,
The plot is twisted, the future lies straightaway.

Life sometimes stops,
people chasing,
but opens eyes,
to what was in the making,
all life experiences,
are for the taking,
no time is ever wasted,
in the making,
that was part of the creating,
to stop the chasing,
now embracing the making,
is for the taking,
evolution will,
continue making,
as our experiences,
never stop shaping.

© 2020 Carol Natasha Diviney

With a hint of death
mingling in the air,
the nocturnal snapdragon is
digging wells,
not just for water,
but also as final resting
places for friends back home,
in the garden,
deep within the soil.

Callous hands and feet
speak of insufficiency
and misery under the sun,
the one lone solace comes
with night,
and the partaking of
her body's delicacies,
bringing her innumerably
to the helve,
as she sings heavenly things
about the architecture
we creatures fall
so easily from.

The most philosophical questions I know, are these:

- Is it your stuff? No? Where's your stuff, then?

I don't know, I never know.