The Last Sacrament
I’ll not ask all that much of my dying;
Surely no more than I’ve asked of life.
To have a few hours with those I love,
Walking a last time through the woods.
And I will say “Here is all I have learned.
There is nothing more I can teach you."
How nothing really begins or ends but
Is endlessly changing in its becoming.
No one will have need to say any sadness
As we lift our glasses of wine and drink
The last full measure of this life and love,
Holding on to one, letting the other go.
Poetry by countryfog
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Written on 2011-05-06 at 16:54
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Lawrence Beck |
josephus |