You were never set to
see it to the end, never
to gain the laurels,
the reward that is
knowing that all
in life is in perfect
state of completion,
standing on the still
shore of the uncrossable ocean
knowing there are no places
to reach and all days will be one;
no, always you were set to be
hurriedly left in that shallow
ditch, in the gloom
of the ageless November
as cold gripped the
land, with that cover
of frost-touched leaves
gathering falling snow;
always now on the way to
that great, glorious goal
reserved for others,
who stream by
your final
silence.
05.11.2022
#Poem #Poems #Poetry #Verse
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