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   POETRY > No More for Him

His mute body lies unmoving,

What silent screams and quiet songs

Lurk deep in those faded onyx orbs

Behind sooty veils of lashes,

And tears waiting for the inevitable fall.

A desert wells inside him –

Hot sand, dry breeze

His flesh, hollowed out, crinkles

Like mud-cake baking in mem’ries of youth;

But no more for him – no more.

To the dust! To the ground!

The lure of the earth entices

But stubborn, his grip endures;

Thus, Life beats him inside out

To cower the spirit; to break his will.

And no more for him

Each breath, a little death,

Each sunrise, a struggle

Until the red of sunset takes over

And tranquil, the worm waits.

But how sad to think this is final

There must be more than dust and grime

Such beauty, such blissful entity

Wasted on worms and fungi

Surely, there’s more…

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