Thorncut deathyears healed roving path’s too many times
while a riddling cure strewn in all the nuisance…

Grievance, told to be gone, listens deafstruck.


Lived all too costly for unloved, fouled and unwished,
and if that was enough or nothing does not make a difference
when unlived truly is to prefer;
as always near to is lower than Nothing


So puny became my life that shallow beauty is life
and finding me nothing more clearly to find herein

So grand is my life that the inner also is its surface
which find itself nothing more clear to leave herein


Death is closing in, so damn irreplaceable,
the obviously final unbreakable Chooser
is already here, immodaretely in love with all called - Life