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'll not be
still filled
with dubious persons
and infernal desires;
it's just that
we may live to be
too old to stand up
and shake their bejeweled
hands any longer.
