“I don't get you” I said to them,
and they didn't listen.
I sat still in my chair,
and stared at them for much longer;
they sat, unmoved, by my futile attempt
to grasp the entangled
intricate workings mess.
They had been here long before me
and will be long after,
sometimes rooted solidly, so
they grow and die and grow again
for health and display and function;
can be shaped and reshaped
for workmanship's showing.
Showy elaborate bits of beauty,
that are humbly arriving and
with increasing volume, shown for
a pridefully broken exit.
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