To live is to die.
Let me have one summer morebathed in light on a western shore
before I walk on through the door.
There I'll taste your softest kiss.
No mortal man can bear such bliss,
beholding all, forsaking this.
These old bones might last a while
yet pleasure here can not beguile
the sufferings of an earthly trial.
Take this old and wrinkled wreck
to stand on your resplendent deck -
the home stretch of my fleshly trek.
Poetry by An-ders
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Written on 2024-07-22 at 23:04
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by An-dersLatest textsThe inner JourneyTo live is to die. The Self Becoming Beneath the summer sky. |
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