With Our Dying Breath
At the moment of death, when our body falls,
as our whole life replays through our laboured mind,
what are the dark spots our heart then there recalls,
that still exercises a relentless bind
on our consciousness far removed from bliss squalls,
having not pursued pathways loving and kind
and thus our head and heart not quite hand in glove,
do we learn at last that we owe debts of love?
03-January-2023
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.