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Tuesday, April 9, 2013

Lament of loss

How can death be,
A celebration,
An end of a life,
Be a joyous one?

Young and old alike,
However be the shape,
A last breath is one,
Always to be mourned.

The stamp left behind,
By the fading soul,
The one last time,
Of doing what is done.

Even a hunter of yore,
Mourned the hunted,
Survival be it for,
Even that’s duly grieved.

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