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At Death Do We Part

by Gerard DiLeo 3 months ago in surreal poetry · updated 3 months ago
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If You Please

At Death Do We Part
Photo by Luwadlin Bosman on Unsplash

My life is my pageant

Of tableaux, entr'actes, and dioramas

Passing in review, the floats--salient

Points displaying my melodramas.

My death's reach waxes unpleasant

With each year candles' waxed resistance;

My future keeps meeting my present,

Begrudged, my past knotted in irrelevance.

My future, once long and fertile,

Gives short notice, now, futility:

All I planned had rotted less versatile,

Belated, senescent debility.

My things, my victories, my rankings--

The stuff of debris, detritus, and flotsam,

Discarded as hand-me-downs, hanging

Others in ignorance, their games, zero-sum.

The wisdom of impending death

Now grades fully my parade;

Perspective--the happiness of last breath,

Air brakes my life; me? Unafraid.

What passes by me now is it--

Meaning divided by destiny--simpler,

A red carpet of rewarding respite:

We all go out pleased, with just a whimper.

surreal poetry

About the author

Gerard DiLeo

Writing full time now in Phase II of his life. Tangential thinking and hippocampal reality from left to right on the page.


email: [email protected]

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