Archive
10/20/08 - (2)
Designing My Time
Now is the moment, the hour, the season When I must account for my presence, The essence of my provisional existence, The raison d'être, purpose, justification By which I've been allowed to design my time, Planting seeds in my mind's fertile womb, Creating poems, from imagination's alluvial loam, Hoping to bring forth brainchildren, Ideas of origins, notions of death's destinations. Now, after this long day's peregrination To the mouth of my soul's cold-breathing cave, I realize that despite my indefatigable dying, Breath is life bequeathed those who believe That now is the be-all and end-all, The beginning and finis, of all that will be.
10/20/08 - (2)
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