See that man? Chaos haunted
for years, tumultuous in his
perennial lust to find himself.
Every mistake gathered from
depths of lava and ash in life’s
seismic rumbles and rubble.
Fretted, thought high and low,
creased forehead, burrowed
in borrowed fantasies of life.
Every book, read and tossed,
philosophies myriad, his soul
reflecting its vague anguish.
Breathing defeat, endured the
calm gravity, continuum lost in
the last futile moments of life.
Tiny fingers crept up his
wrinkled, frail hand; gurgles the
last lullaby for the grandfather.
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