to say a life
has been "spent?"
Exhausted
from treading
the waters of want?
Or else, from always holding
our watery hands out
hoping to receive
our allowance
of suffering?
Perhaps, it's forgetting
the fad of transcending;
eschewing
jagged edges for
softness made stronger.
It's not as if, someday,
we won't
still be filled
with the infernal desires
of dubious strangers;
but with any luck,
we'll have grown too old
and tired to stand up
and shake their bejeweled
hands any longer.
