Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Dearly Departed:

Like buzzing bees on a royal day,
so quick to harvest sweet,
I find myself more driven by nature,
then when my heart did beat.
For when the sparrow,
Quivered sorrow,
And the jays refused
til’ ‘morrow,
My wrenching soul which 
Once was had hues,
Is now reduced.
Then so did I when the gust did blow,
it took a part of me.
A self realization that nature
governs thee. 
A framework much more intricate,
than I, a flesh of gathered stain,
That even when such glee does end,
they never die in vain.
—6424

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