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In this world we live in, people live.  Just simply live.  
In this world we live in, people die.
People die.

Is it more complicated to live than it is to die?
Or isn't the complication of dying, leaving everyone else behind?

What if you woke up tomorrow, only to find yourself dead?
How complicated would that be?
What about your mother, sitting by your bedside, waiting to hug you again?
What about your best friend, dreaming of the day he could talk to you again?
What about your siblings, that are too young to understand but will have to grow up the rest of their lives without you?
What about you. Is it so complicated to simply live? Or simply die?

In this world we live in, people die.
Simply die.
When the air
is brightened
by a visit

It welcomes
this new
presence

Abiding in
its own
sweetly deep
silence

This sunlight
has its own
delicate
sound
©Elisa Maria Argiro
 Oct 2015 Adria Maria
L
Declaration
 Oct 2015 Adria Maria
L
Are there any words to say that will ever mean enough?
When the light runs from the day, will the darkness be too much?
Will I ever be enough?
David Cook
Not mine

**
Leigh
Why do the roses dance back and forth in the howling winds, as if to spite me in some way. Shaking heads in disagreement, as they breathe in and out. Huffing as if to show their disappointment of my every little detail.

I may not be a rose, but you could pick a thorn off of me and still feel love.
Clouds this morning
ridged like
sandbars
in
very fine
sand
in the clear
shallow water
of
a very old lake
©Elisa Maria Argiro
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