herethis is a black dot.that moves uncontrollably in the slight breezeat odd anglesin twisted, bent wayslooking almost as if it is graspingat the delicate balance it now hangs inmy breath is heavyas I try to make it fly, againthe damage worsensand breaksthis is not your final resting placeI whispermy voice carried off by the windI blowhardmy tiny black dotflies away