Just once, may I not call the departed

All the world's may be a stage

A stage in do many plays

With roles in so different ways…

We have entrances, exits but no prompts

No hidden assistance

Only personal persistence.

Oh god of lost on life, asunder

Please give me a line,

Oh dear, stroke me with a shine.

I love life and do not live it

Alienated in my cave, as in a grave

Except there is residual ache…

Just tonight, let me awake without imagined lovers at my side,

Just once, may I not call the departed

Just once, may I not feel all this hate

Give me horses to ride

Instead of pennies in an empty pocket

As the people said, if wishes were pennies, beggars would ride…

I suffer for an art I imagined

An art not concret, all ghosts

All nostalgia

Of may have been, not constituted.

PS you may he have been informed that we are adverse to form.

Although it still exists for the many.

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