Rip
When you were ten years old,
you lived in the 19th centrury,
never thinking, knowing,
the hum of odd machinery,
enlightenment, a few years later,
electric symphony, motors
and war chants screaming
after depression, God dying
somewhere face-down in a
German prison, and with
60 odd years, the greying beard
and wet eyes contemplated drying
five feet underground in 1965.
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