Can we say when it passing away when the beat of its heart
no longer pounds, in youth, it nearly bursts out of our chest, leaving our
lives in utter turmoil, and yet, now we ache for its’ return, for that in ought
we still year, age doing little to tempt this part, to keep the flame down to
keep it from a boil, blowing the top off, all these years we still feel the
same, even when we can no longer call out its name, Can we say it has passed
away when it is the mind and body that won’t let it fade, not just the lust for
which we wanted most, but the thing down deep we still host, we might stake the
heart to make it stop, and still the beasts death is not, we want it now as
much as then, and know if we could we would have it again, feel the beat that
stirs us to life, and can never cut it out no matter how sharp the knife.
No comments:
Post a Comment