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

The manner of his passing was unremarkable He went in his sleep leaving no legacy to speak of and no one to weep No heroic deed in his past to live on in the tongues of men to History hold him fast No estate to bequeath No chronicled record worthy of note nor the patrimony of a laurel wreath His life too was unexceptional no drama the hearts of crowds to grip neither hideous nor inspirational A law-abiding, ordinary little fellow with average hopes, comfortable slippers and a demeanor kind and mellow The Malakh touched him gently that evening and he went, without fuss or hastening They travelled in silence staying always by the side of his deathbed until reaching His Great Benevolence He was never to return, he knew that and as to his future he cared not a fig for it mattered not, the wherefore and what the fall of an apple, the buds on a twig [3 II 08]
Copyright © 2011 Erick Calder
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