Elixir
I have sought to conquer death,
his reaping blade was just too impalpable against my neck.
Wherein I must traverse alongside a withering flower—
has society already proscribed death?
An incurable disease has fallen,
the doctors left disheartened,
my family already blasé.
Then why I must be anguished?
Ambrosia was never meant to be eaten—
it yearned to be saved.
And if consumed by entitled desires,
it would grapple all mortals to death.
It is inequitable for me to have the antidote
to a disease that was never meant to be cured.
I want to be sanctified once more,
but I am already disillusioned by the veil.
Copyright © John Pollux Bellen | Year Posted 2026
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