My work yesterday
I pursued with fire..
dead letters burned
letters with news
for countless intended
recipients Unknown..
news shadowed or light
these notifications of
paths NOT taken
met their end by
my flaming torch..
My role as destroyer
carried my reverie
ignited a wish
a blessing and curse
to finally know NOT..

My work today
new letters appear..
copying not burning
yet sorrows abide in
slow repetitive death..
I must rise
stand tall
Find face and soul
in that wall..
I must proclaim
I prefer NOT..
PREFER
this delicious word..
freedom's choice
tasted with short
bursts of joy..

Facing my wall
searching for NOT
into emptiness flowed
a bright wholeness
of  letters and light..
but a price to be paid
for other's disdain
they are forgiven for
not knowing NOT..
NOT holds those
letters I've known..
Ah humanity...*

Based on Herman Melville's
short story, "Bartleby
the Scrivener"