MEA MAXIMA CULPA

1

I wake to night, to darkness

both outer and inner,

to the knowledge of loss;

all the things I held

on the palm of my hand,

thinking them eternal to be

- and they were 

butterflies in early autumn air,

fragile before the coming chill;

how bitter the flood of memories

that comes crashing on the virgin soil

of my mind wiped clean by sleep.

2

This you had, this you lost

- this you gave up

because you did not act.

Now you wake up to darkness

both inner and outer,

and lament your fate

- but they don't wake up

from dreamless sleep,

they don't have your luxury of regret.

Theirs is death,

yours is life - which

you cheated from their hands.

20.09.2019