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Some kinds of something

We get that much nearer to

the end of an

era

and the end of an era

is here.

 

I agonise over the why's when

it's too late.

 

Life became the catalogue with

extended terms available, but only

few

are capable

to pay cash on the nail.

 

I say to myself,

'this is not a fail,

this is not',

and am struck

by the echo which comes

back with no sound.

 

But this god of salvation

to whom

I call to in desperation

remains silent

 

and if I am a universe where are the stars?

 

Of all these scars to which I alone have the rights

none hurt as much as the silence.

 

To get through it,

we go through it,

I remind myself so

 

sometimes it's harder

to stay.

 

Why today or any day which is my day?

so precious

gracious

we strike out to find greatness and

find it was there all

the time.

 

I remember it so

to

remind myself so

and the universe will

go on.

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Written by
john-edward-smallshaw
70 / English
Published
May 21, 2016
Lines·Words
41·170
Permission

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