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"Life is supposed to be difficult," he said taking a long swig for his ornate hip flask, "It’s the struggle against the infinite violence of a universe.” I smiled, perhaps he was right or perhaps he was just an asshole making it up as he went along, but the gravity of his remark struck me unexpectedly. The default to life was indeed struggle, for all life not just intelligent life; why would I be exempt. I didn’t care for the man and his insidious gloat of pomposity. Nothing is absolute, nothing certain, which makes the possibilities boundless. The joy of life is making it from one moment to the next through adversity and earning the things the things people say about you when you arrive at your freshly dug grave carried by those you hold dearest.

Friday, 27 November 2015

A Sorrowful Tree

Dark veiled and coated 
The red eyed sing their hymns
Like wind between the stones
While the towering crows dance like butterflies

Gentle goodbyes are said
Beneath the sodden earth
Tremors of sadness slice the heart 
And words of hope are whispered

Here her memory begins
Amongst the broken petals
The stones and the crows
Where tear drop rivers glisten
And a sorrowful tree grows


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