deepundergroundpoetry.com
Epic
Life can be the most epic form of suicide,
a marathon of racing,
of living,
of dying,
fighting through the days, hours, minutes
laid before our feet
in a gauntlet of blood and fire.
We can race to the mountain's crest
panting, flying,
fighting the odds
in an effort to be
everything
we are.
Raking through rejection,
clambering against self-loathing,
clawing past the pain
of false starts and failures,
we can fling ourselves upwards,
launching with the fuel
of will, of mind, of flesh and bone
to reach the crest,
and in our moment,
to stand
atop the world-
if only for a second-
before we shatter
and become one
with the sun.
© - 2016, H. Newberry
a marathon of racing,
of living,
of dying,
fighting through the days, hours, minutes
laid before our feet
in a gauntlet of blood and fire.
We can race to the mountain's crest
panting, flying,
fighting the odds
in an effort to be
everything
we are.
Raking through rejection,
clambering against self-loathing,
clawing past the pain
of false starts and failures,
we can fling ourselves upwards,
launching with the fuel
of will, of mind, of flesh and bone
to reach the crest,
and in our moment,
to stand
atop the world-
if only for a second-
before we shatter
and become one
with the sun.
© - 2016, H. Newberry
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