Wednesday, 20 January 2016

That's what being has been

Only when you search
till you find self
in two hundred something
of fragility and mortality.
Some light years away
must have you done something
horribly beautiful
to be here,
here in existence.
For nothing conceals
the glum eyes on happy face,
a shallow heart,
and empty soul.
For you couldn't be kept
from distortion
of bruised knees
cracked heels,
pimpled cheeks
cramped feels,
kindly so
not a thing irreparable,
that's what living has been
a mortal bod
of impairment and beaut
an expeditious age
of being to not being
a vicious lifetime
of warmth and hurt,
an endless trail
of hoping and healing.

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