poetry = nonsense
nonsense = meaninglessness
meaninglessness = void
void = nothingness
nothingness = spirit

Final breath
My final breath I will sip in gingerly as if from a dark bitter cup of tea its warmth embracing my agonising soul in its stark sobriety That last breath I will hold head spinning drunk with life and savour memories old of majestic forests, anxious lovers and the soft caress in mother's fold With all my strength I will hold it 'till desperate lung explodes forcing my release, the surrender of human rights and vicissitudes Then this ancient visigoth will be silent and still, fading like Niniveh in the mysts of time the intoxicating scent of wisteria blooming the rage of a father's loss or the blood of life-taking in the wake of atonement Dec 04
Copyright © 2011 Erick Calder
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