He who lauds be truest,
While he who hides behind his wealth
Be ignorant and foolish.
Thy who grows thine spirit be the wealthiest of all.
He who grows his power has the mightiest of falls.
The game of life is not a game that we may play for keeps.
For when the time for death comes round we forfeit what we’ve earned.
All we may bring with us is what we’ve done and learned.
This I’ve come to see, and I’ll be ready when it’s time.
I’ve nothing to hold onto, and I’m not afraid to die.
Not that I am rushing for to be brought back to The All
But life’s a lonely bore and I won’t miss it when It when I’m gone.
ergo It seems of late the best of times
Are when I’m not awake.
So never waking up
Sounds rather pleasant certain days.
I don’t want to come off as selfish for the live I’s given.
But I can’t shake the feeling that this world is carceram, prison!
I guess it didn’t always, but I’m not one to complain.
A bene placito life has done me well I’d say.
A contrario an emptiness does sit and swell inside
Since you’ve taken leave a mari duque as mare I sigh.
I have become a wretchful mess ab imo pectore
I know it’s all my fault I’m not sure whats left to say.
I am sorry ab intra still Absit invidia
I hope that you fair better than I have as of late.
Ad absurdum I march to see the madness in my fate
Even though I’ve pained I know it’s I that has done wrong.
This Actus Reus burdened long
and hence There were no words I’d find to sing it’s song
But the truth is that I’ve grown so shy Ive lost my voice.
Ad interim I guess I’ll pass the days with text in hand.
Often times it feels like I no longer have a choice.
I may have lost my track of where this poem had been going.
And I’m a bit uneasy of the feelings I’d been showing.
But my scattered brain it needs release from time to time,
It won’t always make sense but at least it always rhymes.
We find our Pedem Litterae where I may say goodbye,
To all that I have written as I send it toward the sky.