Final Harvest

20

‘Tis not that Dying hurts us so
Love is dying in a different way
Being let go, like yesterday’s memory

By someone we still love –
‘Tis living, the ambush of little hurts
That aren’t so shrill if we make

Bliss, our mortal baseline
And bow to everything, and learn
‘Tis not that dreams pass too slow

It’s that we have a set number of choices
We can ever make, hitting Reset
Is not the same as an involuntary rebirth

‘Tis not that Dying hurts us much
Life is not the mourning attachment it once was
When our heart is broken forever, by one final episode
That allows us to live another way.

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