I'll be-none else-
my own nurse
life is lived in
the singular--I'll self-serve

the heart is
in longing
but rewarded not
in getting

love so long I've sought
only found the beguiling
hopes and dreams come to naught
life is the betraying

there's no thoroughfare
only silent death is waiting
the lovely and ugly, the good and bad
it witnesses in every farewelling.