On the Wretch's Tarp and the Castle of the Don
Death misses not a Beat, not one, but You
Will make a Way of Art and Love – live on!
With Air and Alphabet a Poet etches Word
On Mind and Soul to outlast Bronze and Stone
Death keeps the Time, but I have also heard
Time and Space themselves are out on Loan
Until We pay in full with Interest at the End
Earless to Human Mutterings and Moans
The Judgment falls – the Rules will never bend
Time cooks our feeling Flesh, Space grinds our Bones
Things never change, so always there's this One
Spirit – as a Father loves a Son
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