the flaw in detachment

the flaw in detachment
is as the shy to a fault:
love is devoid of isolation
and death is the fate,
the worthless end
of the undesirable—
material is used,
but matter—what matters—
bodies, swim and flow together,
forever and true, like, a part of you
and a part of who ever comes your way
are intertwined, entangled, anyway—
shield the best and shun the rest,
you’ll shine and you’ll prove.