The Immortal

The winds cut me in to
two halves
Under one I was all
that was passed on
That half made of stone
was also sentimental and with a
name
Men gathered around that
name
And saw themselves in that
asking for a shelter from the storms
Mortality they said was not welcome
And how they looked for newer products
every day and in all night

The other half
was as lost as a nucleus
in this universe
Lucky it was
for it could never be named
and could be faded
by men who never grew any ears
it would be this that would be immortal
with nothing to sell
and buy
buried in dust
sleeping alone


If the conclusion drawn by readers
reads hopeless
hmmmm
if it does
then there is hope or
I call it flower
which you see was not seen
and is now
as you or if you read this again
upside down