There is much to be done before I am gone,

There is much to be said before I am dead,

So much to be taken while I am shaken,

Although I may be tossed and put to the test

About in this tempest, I feel far from lost –

Rather I am floating between two nethers,

Oh they may be gloating with their white feathers;

I may struggle and swear, wish they heard my prayer,

I may be worse for wear, run back here from there,

But whatever the cost I know I shall best

Both the deep biting frost and the blazing jest,

For I am confident that naught is over,

That each and every dent struck deep in the steel

Is a lucky clover, a charm of the past,

The reason why I kneel but ne’er away cast

The hope nor the fire no matter how dire;

For, yes, time may stand still and my palms empty,

But much remains to be said, done, and to see…

One small have beats two will: Rome is my city.


I am what I am.

2 thoughts on “Erasure

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