Tuesday 28 February 2017

Vague

Was reading a quote of Kafka yesterday,
he seemed very, very unknown.
Blotted by tears, soon, upon my face,
or was it, mind, instead.
It was a stroke in my soul:
a mental picture.

I don’t remember it today,
its vague, addressed in ‘life’ and ‘death’,
and that is all I want to think;
in-between is all I do,
and if, by-chance
i understand – what it means,
i know
i will wish the end.

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