The Gifted Others
Mortality is always this quiet verbiage,
The ending thought to all who could listen,
The last words.
So thoughtful and quiet esteem
So less with life and full in wanting more.
It is a quiet thing, so train in darkness and silence.
Incapable or reasoning
Detest—I’m assuming of mercy,
Of an enterprising thought well done
I prolong ..
I run from it
I trick it as my thoughts betray
To the worldly pleasures of self
And gave such pronounce beauty of family
And of love
And of lost hope in my talks with death.
I am so sorry for thinking universal law
Was so translucent,
I am so sorry
For your loss.