watching helplessely

[ I saw an old friend smile with joy, admiring the handcuffs that they had been complaining about, just because it was golden. I felt helpless and sad. Maybe the poetry came out from that feeling ]

You cannot save someone
from success
Beholden to our own
indulgences

How can you save a bee
from a flower
or a moth
from a flame

Neither can you save a fruit
from ripening
and then rotting away
Or a flame
from burning itself out

Disintegrating with joy,
Maybe
a clay doll finds its highest purpose
in the sea.