Tuesday, September 8, 2009


When the works of your hands glazed your heart in grime
and most of the time life has lost its' shine
you have matured.

Death is the end of knowledge
yet the beginning of wisdom
for in comprehending the ending
we complete our understanding of a process.

Not to put too fine a point on it
but when the fine details don't look too fine
and the repeated events we're smeared with aren't refined
so we whine while waiting in line to be fined again for trying
there's a prosperity in finishing
for which (with each whistled breath) we're wishing.

Pain tells us something's wrong
and that's better than nothing
despair follows hope
like joy fills a fool.

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