| Busy hands set off each day The heights and nadirs of the way. Mullahs and tinkers muse and toil. Is life at birth a Rubik cube That little hands must figure out And death a moment in a tube From which the night may shimmer out? I will not mull in lonely bed. Nature will surely for the soil Simplify me when I'm dead. (February 2002) Copyright ©2002 Olivier Serrat |
| i will not mull in lonely bed |
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