More Boomerang Than Arrow

Lately it occurs to me

Time is not linear and
Its forward progress

Is purely illusory because 

Not only do the seasons

Take us round and round

But our lifeline loops

Around a central hub

Weaving out and back

As we wax and wane

And centrifugal force

Gives way to centripetal

Just like any flower

With pistils stamens and petals 

Attached to its central stem

We die by slowly retreating

From our extremities

And yet a few more ways

We are like flowers

In that when we open most

We are also closest to death

And it is we who must learn

To let go of the stem

Co-terminus with
Our final breath