You can die every day if you want to –

Days ending, an own death given, and you will die.
Every day, days die, in an own way of expiration, as a sun goes and a moon comes, they went to you, for you.
Then a song heard from singing creatures – careless in forgetting love sustains above all, those things seen in those past days and jubilant endings.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in poem, poetry, prose, poet, creative writing, writing and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s