The Walnut Moth Discovered

There it lay - soft, crumpled, bereft of life. A secret too well kept. It could have lived, but failed to endure the test. Could have fluttered beautifully, effortlessly on the breeze, if only it had first gained egress.

Quandaries

When faced with a quandary, one must avoid the barbs - 

Always the most projecting of parts.

One must trace round the edges, comprehend the shape,

Feel the heft of that you have found. 

The stolid foundation and fumigous surround,

Are of no consequence here -

Within all quandaries there is a curious pearl 

A kernel which once it has been grasped,

Will be clear and tractable, plain and extractable,

From the murk in which it was masked.

It can all rot

Let the paving and asphalt break up,
Let the lofty spires fall,
Let the timbers rot and girders rust,
Concrete crumble, brick work moulder,
You need do nothing at all -
Just let it be.

Let our world fade from memory,
A bad dream from which the world awoke.