A Flower Killed

A Flower Killed
James Dinsmore

I felt beauty
Until I dug,
And covered the flowers I loved with mud.
I had a feeling,
But it was suddenly killed,
My emotions were seized at the neck,
Their blood was spilled;
By a thought.

Thoughts are cruel-the mind kills,
It murders easily because it never feels.
For beauty is lost in the analysis,
And enthusiasm in truth;
Life is lost in numbers,
Cynicism is born in worth.

My once peaceful mind’s now weary,
Wrinkled by substance-less thoughts;
I try to decipher it all,
As the flower rots.


And I gave my heart to know wisdom, and to know madness and folly: I perceived that this also is vexation of spirit. For in much wisdom is much grief: and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow. Ecclesiastes 1:17,18