The Empty

The birth was an explosion like all things between
those first ancient cradle rivers.
All that was his, his love, his way had gone to agony,
to pain, nightmares, ugly shivers.

Was it his fault, a belt he simply had to lock it.
He let go to his dreams, his wants, fell into space
like that poor dog in that soviet rocket.

Plum full lips, a beautiful but abhorrent boy.
Now a gray man suffering pain so cunning, so coy.
The affliction- Pulsating, Pounding an incessant hum.
He wondered out loud what was worse this or the fate
for the lovers at Actium.

Take it All. Leave me My boy, My girl.
If no, then just answer me this:
Is it steel courage or blind cowardice
to walk willing before my time
into the empty.

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