Writings of a sad day


The Gifted Others

Mortality is always this quiet verbiage,

The ending thought to all who could listen,

The last words.

So thoughtful and quiet esteem

So less with life and full in wanting more.

It is a quiet thing, so train in darkness and silence.

Incapable or reasoning

Detest—I’m assuming of mercy,

Of an enterprising thought well done

I prolong ..


I run from it

I trick it as my thoughts betray

To the worldly pleasures of self

And gave such pronounce beauty of family

And of love

And of lost hope in my talks with death.

I am so sorry for thinking universal law

Was so translucent,

I am so sorry

For your loss.

I am.

–K.G. Bethlehem

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