Monday, April 23, 2012

Poem of a Dying Samurai


The pebbles are delicately balanced
Each merely a quiver of movement away
From falling into desolate silence
How I long to make them stay
Forever joined just as nature intended
A peculiar path with a quiet ending
The river flows forth pure as ever
Seemingly unchanged by these events
While death brings both calm & terror
Yet still I watch, held fast in suspense
As my final breath escapes my lips
Tainted with blood & bile
The pebble falls, despite my thoughts
& the wind carries all I am
Swiftly into nothingness

Every pen bleeds twice; first comes the ink, then the life's blood of the writer

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