I have not a mouth nor a brain
and not a body for conveyance
but a thought is mine.
I know many have wondered;
death, death, death —
to what end is finality?
No ending but always as always
beginnings; mostly bright
colors and rushing sounds by.
Not a dream nor a waking moment;
but the in-between compromise
and serenity we go by that way.
The actor releases one costume
then decides upon another persona
and learns lines for the stage.
AND wishing the curtain falls
upon roses and much-desired
applause.
:: 10-01-2017 ::
E.P. Robles | Poetry 