Sunday, August 26, 2007

To GODOT (Awaiting Godot, Samuel Beckett) 11.4.06

Why don’t I see tears in my eyes?
Is it that they like an unknown demise?
Why don’t I see even my eyes?
Is it that I’m blind?
Why are these fruitless thoughts haunting me?
Where am I being taken to by these goalless dreams?
When am I going to see my passions dead?
(Or else they will take my breath out
And burn my soul out
And then they will place a dried rose on my tomb,
Sure that’s going to drive my tears out!)

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