From my most unbreakable certainty, I worship my most
visceral doubt, the legacy of death, day by day, in
seconds that drag on through my time, and to his
throne, now I am attentive, now I am careless

Death seems fair to me, it does not segregate, by any
race and age, in the most remote of places it is

For any moment, it will be postulated in front of my
orbit, in front of yours, it will be made available,
it will have to be made unavoidable before the chosen

It can be apotheotic, like that, well, still, who will
know, will be shy

It will make it heartbreaking, intense, the most
intrinsic of my pains, of your pains

It will amputate the presence, in a cutting act it
will empty the heart of hope and fill it with an
incognito and opaque void.

It will make us think about an envelope of revolt,
fear, anguish

Thus, it will be divinely strenuous, and will
sovereignly provide us with the most infamous of the
factors consigned to death, the warlike questioning
that kills us in responses that do not embrace, that
do not shut up, that do not stroke

As sad as dying is seeing someone in love die in


Author: poetryfest

Submit your Poetry to the Festival. Three Options: 1) To post. 2) To have performed by an actor 3) To be made into a film.

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