Monday, January 23, 2012

Refuge in the Rain

Brutal love.
It clings to a death,
a death that will never be reborn;
to a nothing that will never restore;
to the ash that will never catch flame.


Death. It looms,
Always.
Unprovoked,
It will still come.


I am nothing to him now.
The one who seeks happiness in only dark places.


dukkha. anicca.

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