of a poetic life,
better yet,
of a life within
poetry,
is but
my microdot-millisecondmoment

it is illusion-less,
devoid of blustery
dreams, but for
the self satisfying
in touch with my
deepest innards,

where flows laughter
(at one self) goes up
from my raucous laughter,
spreading up to my northern star of a
laugh-lined furrowed forehead

and download flows tears of self recognition, disparity, and despair, tinged and singed by sorrow and pity, for and bye my endless deprecation and depreciation of the the light and little life I have
"accomplished"

so be it ~
not even a flash in the pan,
Not even a water's short-lived morning twinkle

less than a secondary sighting of a stars on/off flashing,

as short as a shortness of breath,
unconsciously counting the fewer steps l
eft near my death than thee

blink! And will we miss each other's transition composition from living to eternity, never to be forgotten, and never to be remembered

this is peace, and acceptance that the pieces of me,
shall not be re-glued or re-assembled, and that is how
it be sowed and sown and reaper~ed