The Wake
Extract unhappiness
From chamber danger in your heart;
No seething grief will bring relief
As poison forms from bitter false belief
To further flourish soaked in salt-tear flood
Where blackened blooms consume imagination;
That one eternal cause of being,
A singularity of truth
Alive in this and every universe,
But it might flee and leave you here to grieve
With one who's grief is done -
Till you become as death.
Copyright © Tom Mcmurray | Year Posted 2011
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