Friday, 18 January 2013

Scribemus

a year since my last. and

time has gone. and

life has followed. death

an ever present spectre. questions

conspire against me.

their answers loud – nothing.

and everything.

so many questions mean nothing

and everything.

and though all turns to dust

I can rise from these ashes.

I can begin

again.

No comments:

Post a Comment