by Author Name Withheld 131

Created on: September 23, 2009

It's Getting Late I Think

The thing is Excess

That keeps us alive

Or that gives us Life

Imbues meaning

And sometimes

Kills us

But that is the glory

And the meaning

And what makes us Human

The People

The Beloved of Nature

God's precious gift

And the blasphemy

And all that is holy

And, if you like, corrupt

But especially,

Beautiful

I am alive

No one can deny it

Love me

Despise me.

I am just a man

Help me

Once I was a boy (?)

But that was

Way back when

And now

Well

Who cares?

I drink another beer

Smoke a cigarette

Pet my dog

Stroke my love

Wander about a bit.

And here I am again

Still alone

Dreaming

Empty,

But alive.

Turn around

Walk the other way a while

I am just a man.

Forgive me

The night is long and quiet

Who can forget?

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