This is What it Is - a poem

the flower pot fell against the concrete.
you know that it shattered, so why should I tell you, fill in the blanks with you knowledge of flower pots.
the flower pot fell against the concrete.
but did it shatter?
perhaps this particular flower pot was resistant to breaking, blessed by a crafty witch, but this is reality, not fantasy.
the flower pot fell against the concrete.
this is just what it did, there need not be more to this story than that,
but so what if there was?
and so what if there isn't?

why does this story keep  coming back?
for what is the point of this narration if not to bring us back to our basic instincts of the rules of gravity, but there are no rules of gravity here, Newton's laws only graced the pages,
Newton's laws defined the natural laws but not the laws of pages.

the flower pot fell against the concrete,
but I don't give two shits after that
this is no story to be told, this is just a thing to write about
like anything to write about
we assign meaning, we assign truth,
these are but words, this is put a page

so,
the flower pot fell against concrete,

and so it did.