It's amusing,
really,
how a mind can train itself
to work a
certain way,
can condition itself
against emotions
so that thoughts can run
free
of bothersome sentiments
bogging down
logic.
But,
like an athlete must
occasionally envy
a child dipping french fries
in a chocolate shake,
a mind can grow
weary
of endless analysis,
of careful interactions
and long
for heedless
expression.
But hold!
for there is yet much
to understand before
all that.

Life stared at her
from a place few
dare to venture,
a palace of
purest white,
spires reaching
to a cloudless sky’
grinning in her way,
daring existence to
exceed her domain.
But she,
she danced with
Death about the
headstones in the
sun,
carved names and
dates long forgotten,
and she remembered
them little as anyone,
but focused on her
step, graceful
as in a dream.
Clouds loomed high
above and far off,
echoes of a war
so far off,
yet so near,
and it was a
war born of Life
and Death.
And so Life crouched,
insane in her power
over all and over nothing,
but she
she danced with
Death about the
gravestones
at twilight.