146 reads
inevitable, mine.
o green, humble grass
how dare it go on growing
at the dawn of every spring
past the coldness of my death?
o bright, hopeful sun
how dare it go on rising
at every dark, careful morning
past the bleakness of my death?
o deep, chaotic seas
how dare they keep on churning
at every soft breath of wind
past the helplessness of my death?
o vast heavy earth
how dare you let us die
of every subtle touch and ache
as ever you'll live on?