Thursday, 11 August 2011

Father (Sun)

He was always so far,
his alimony merely manna,
rays raised in the depths
of his tumult.
I can almost touch him,
but the memory of him
still burns

my eyes, my hands, my
feet - especially
the eyes.

He'll puff up in death.
never the case in life;
he'll breathe his last breath
and we'll atomise.

Father, did you ever care?
Or were you merely there?
A father must always swear,
but you hold your breath,
a lungful of air;

and after 9 billion years,
puffing red,
you'll say you love us -
that love you'll swear -
but by then we'll all be dead.

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