Seven stages

All the world’s a garden, And all the men and women merely pollinators.  Blooming with passion and desire that needs to be harvest  In the garden of life, dreams await their season At first, the seedling, needing nourishment, provisions from the pollinators. Then the sprouting stem, with the sun beating down, eager to grow to more. And then the bud, a hint of a color a cue of bloom  Silent anticipation, a life has yet to be seen Then the blooming stage, petals fall open to reveal the beautiful pistil The bright colors illuminate in the earliest parts of the morning,  And then pollination,  having the pollinators take all the pollen away The excommunication of the pollen left the flower defeated in its isolation  As the flower was drained it longed for its pollen  Falling into the sixth stage: wilting Petals drooping over and folding up on themselves  While their once bright colors fade away forever The flower leans towards the earthen ground of the garden, Its recently sacred structure begins to droop into a resemblance of its once sprouted self Last stage of all, decay Each petal a reminder of the long past In the tapestry of life, a sorrowful goodbye  Sans petals, sans growth, sans pollen,