What is the span of time
compared to love?
A week, or month or centuries?
And how would the heart survive
within a myriad of perils
at the foot of that abyss?
And how long does a man
spend dying?
The brain thinks as the
fingers thrump the counter top
and no knowledgeable priests
or philosopher knows — i know
seeing god and devil part their ways
to visit the eternal void
And all these happen-stance
wittinesses will count to twelve
and keep the secret within their
inner most hearts!
:: 12152015 ::
E.P. Robles | Poetry 