Gratitude for an Annhilation
Life, being a dash between old age and death
To see which can first make youth succumb
Raises not my hairs
For she swallows the darkness whole
And mirth comes even on the precipice
A blithe joy bestowed and inherited
I am alive and know it
For she rips away the haze of habit
Petite raptures knit a chrysalis anew
Acyclic incarnations du jour
I am asunder and ascribed
For even in triteness she is dazzling
Multitudes over millennia
Caterwauled of the consequences
Of staring into the sun
For poor fools never realize how blessed blindness can be
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