Nov 142013
Life may be magnanimous,
The sleek making way of water reeds
Before a smooth canoe.
It may be.

Or life perchance is tragic,
A limitless march, march, march
To the restriction of a pinnacle.
It may be.

These two modes of life
Are one, in sum.
The tragic will navigating North,
The lazy wanderer wading South.

What happens to the one,
Happens exactly to the other.
Death, or some other bother.
It may be.

When, in this light, we look
At ourselves, we disappear
Into the necessitous intimate
Staring there in the mirror.

It may be.

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