Shell

Does a ship ever stop floating
Does its sail tear?
And if it tears, will it die?
Will it keep on living?

A shell is sad
A bear is crying
A unicorn, this fantastical beast is comforting the poor creature.
A porcelain baby crawls delicately, but joyfully on his heaving back
And sinks him deeper into the ground.
By a pool.

She has nothing to give but an image.
A beautiful, angelic, and eternal portrayal
A masterpiece of beauty
A carefully constructed dream

And under the ground
Hidden beneath the pool
Is a shell
Dead
Weeping tears that nothing living will see
And why should a shell weep
When it is the only thing that is not alive anymore.

Bury
Bury
Bury

Until only the angel remains.
I will join the infant in its delicacy
In its primitive world before it was born.
To a place where it cannot be hurt.
Cannot have spina bifida

And I will be there.
Safe in the place before my life ended.
Like a photograph preserved
In time forever.

Just leave the shell alone.
Perhaps it is not there anymore anyway.