i
My portion for the day
Is defeat, a taste of poverty
Paler luck I guess than Victory
Whatever that means, whatever
Will be, will be; only love keeps me going
Slower than, so many years ago
ii
I live for scraps of prayers
And napkins for an invisible muse
Nicknamed ‘soul’ by God
I’ll give up God for Eternity
For quiet hope has fewer bells
And faith must realize the self
In whatever circumstance one finds it
iii
My portion of the day
Is empathy’s brief appointment
Before everyone disappears
To follow their respective fates
An altitude of change, goodbyes, death
Never mind repose, it meets you at the door.
Wuji Seshat 
Reblogged this on Baihu's Haikus and commented:
This is an example of why Wuji Seshat Nebada is one of my favorite poets
This is exquisite! So ethereal!
Truly I love your writing. Thoughtful intriguing and felt through and through