The Glorious Death of a Tulip

In the dying minutes of the day I found a white tulip, still beautiful but dying.

Some flowers are gaudy, some architectural, some delicate, but few look as good as tulips can in the last instants before their petals fall. Perhaps it is because tulip flowers at first are rather puritan and gauche, growing to become purposeful, pure. The mature tulip flower is a precise goblet possessing a definite elegant steely geometry; suddenly petals buckle, colours bleed, shadows spill asunder.

Look at this - death as an epiphany!