Poetry: Lying Still

Death becomes me
Lying still,
Devoid of thought,
With nothing left to feel.

A new release
Found on my brow,
Carefree in nothing —
No pain to handle now.

What sorrow brought in
day to day,
Is now exhaled
And fades away.

No lust to fan
The flames of loins,
There is no fear
In where I’m going.

To sacrifice the draw of breath,
To choose, and love, and be loved back,
Comes with rewards beyond the thrill,
No hurt to heal – when lying deathly still.

Poetry: Contemplation
Poetry: Malinalco

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