Wednesday, October 7, 2009

and finally...

And what of the end
If end there be
And beginning be not
In and of itself complete
The last page is turned
My single candle burns low in its holder
Wax running onto the desk
Where my hand lays
Cramped fingers grasping
As in final desperation
The empty pen
All its words poured forth
From within its now purposeless shell
Candle flame gutters
Tries vainly to illuminate
Its own local part of this world

Before it breathes its last
I will retrieve the next
From the drawer where more
Lay in preparation
Next to my store of fresh clean pages
And new word filled pens

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