#114

Breathings Without a Mouth

I underestimated life and its silent forsaking;
I neither breathe nor eat, for the cycle has ceased
My lips fell still before the divine providence
Yet I admire those with whispers for the unknown, those who keep writing


A mere soul carries a message back to our youth
I am neither grand nor historical, yet truly, I exist
My essence reaches for another’s arms, fed by my own growth
I envy all who remain whole, those unwilling to be anything but themselves


Every silver foil has a different melting point
That is the truth I speak of, beyond any malady or sign
He might grasp my meaning at some turning point in his life
I have nothing left to flaunt, only these weary words from Rome


I brought a shadow of misfortune to our redemption
Yet you do not bow, even when led astray
From birth to the end, I tremble like death’s own invention
To speak truly and gently: we are but refugees left to be read


What did I misunderstand from this divine intervention?
From God, from Heaven, or any divinity
Remaining, by choice, forever unknown

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