Ann

If I am told to go into death now It occurs to me that There is nothing to memorize and miss

Everything is intoxiacated with hubbub and tranquility Everyone is fettered by hesitation and happiness Undulate breathe Brings up neglible ripples on the sea of nature Drowns in wholement But has nothing to do with it

The remains of the fragments of the body Become dirt The ant fed on the dirt Becomes the body Whether the life exists or not Whether the heat death is illusion or reality Time takes no notice

All Forsaked, will turn eternal Any Ephmeral, will be frozen and sealed

Wait Until the wind is blowing Until the leaves are brushing From the disoderly and leisurly trival crumbs of sounds Fades out a word of lamented appeasement

“Ann.”