Void, from which we begin
And the other to which we end
Like an old familiar friend
Uninvited, knocks again

But it is not your time
What do you want with life?
What is it that you gain?
From causing human pain?
And endless or seemingly
And massive suffering?
Don’t you have quite enough
Of us when we are done?
And before we meet the womb
After, meet the tomb?
What of your plan?
To meddle with man
And woman and lover
And child and teacher?

Teacher.
I see
However confusing
And so,
It’s me
And the way that I perceive

No void, but blank slate
A space to contemplate
History, present, future
To heal or simply suture

Poetry

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