we forget about the summer that was just ended.
It is the time to honor the dead.
And yet, the dust remains.
Drunk upon sadness at three in the morning of
blue lines in a heart of your dark blue seas
Conceals everything that is the opposite of that.
It is a year before I write any of this.
First they must grow strong, then they must grow old.
SO As time goes by, we live and we die.
We live long, but we die young.
Blessed is the sleep of the aged.
Blessed is the man who stays awake.
When I read this, I wonder why a man who wanted to break
the sound barrier is so sad.
Perhaps he was thinking of all the men he knew.
Who died before making it to the top of the sky?
Maybe he was thinking of how great it would have been
if he could only break the speed of light.
it’s life and love for nothing but death.
:: 03.12.2022 ::
E.P. Robles | Poetry 