Work Text:
When stopped by death, some souls are stern;
others soothe themselves in comforts of the earth;
others, still, choose to play the clown.
In grief alike we cloaked our hearts in black
and convened on borrowed time to dock in haven;
and waited, silent, as that ticking anchor swang.
Were once, are now, blind and hairless as the newborn bunny,
hopping gaily through amber fields to malt the grain;
we toast, we cry, we laugh in the face of aging:
Life’s endless gala, to attend again
and again.

malicious_compliance_esq Sat 10 Jun 2023 09:52PM UTC
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i_dwell_in_darkness Thu 05 Feb 2026 03:35PM UTC
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