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I am the family face;
I live on,
Projecting trait and trace
Through time to times anon,
And leaping from place to place
Over oblivion.
The years-heired feature that can
In curve and voice and eye
Despise the human span
Of durance - that is I;
The eternal thing in man,
That heeds no call to die.
I just thought I'd throw that out there, really, because I guess I find it to be an entirely reasonable way of dealing with death. I kind of hate myself for admitting to the rather soft opinion that nobody ever really dies, but... it's pretty much true. From this rather poetic angle, anyway. |
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Posted by griffin on 2008-04-27 15:35:06 | Rating: | Views: 80
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your poem is so cool. i like it.
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Posted by Angel_Crank
on 2008-04-27 20:39:03
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