As I listen to a lullaby
a spot of death
lands upon the soul
For I discarded the temple
and so lost grip
during years of inattentiveness
through neglect
of my worthy thirteen companions
such blackness
now poors out of the nine apertures
Could I have but had a hold
(and not fear the tigre)
on my earthiness, my nature
(and nourish life's spirit)
no spots of death would mar
(and wear the shroud)
the temple that bears my soul
Demystified Fifty
© 2022-03-27
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