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Life 54



Life is abstract; death concrete.  Life is
the suicide of time.  Life is separating
from what you were never a part
of, combining with what insists
on separation.  Reality is meant
to be assimilated, not annihilated.
The ornamentation of expedience.
The prime shattered to infinite pieces,
splintered toward (to?) zero.

I'm mildly curious about your methodology.

All poems are written and copyrighted by Michael C. Rush.
None may be republished or repurposed without permission.