Life After Death

No one asked to be
born (it’s no secret.)
but we continue living
as if it were an
unshakeable belief.

We streak through some moments
and chrystallize in others.

We defy the simple idealogies
of affection and love (without
love, how does one tell
flesh from stone?)
How? How? How?

Our perfection dies when
we enter this mortal entanglement.

Somewhere inside the breath’s
insistence lies the answer:
draw in. force out.
what takes must give
(reluctantly; but freely all the same.)

Copyright 2010 by Michael Marsters.
All rights reserved.


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