I stand at the crossroads. I’m in sodden ground. I cannot be shifted to fertile soil. The decay has set in.

How does a man marry such sunken existence? How does he care about this life not lived?

A star-studded bead rests upon my wilted leaf. If they fell in torrents I would topple and barely damage the undergrowth for I am small in status.

My death is a sure thing. I have wanted it.

Dewdrops sparkle in the forest. They quiver awhile, suspended, before they’re swallowed by the sun. Diamonds without purpose – part of a cycle that doesn’t question its path.

A cluster diamond ring I wear promises I’ll find my voice. But I lose several tiny diamonds. I repair what does not want to be. I must drink the jewels, quiver awhile, suspended, before being swallowed by the sun.