The Final Bar.

Each day a step to a new destination;

there is no need for anticipation.

I know I’ll get there, don’t know why

I only know there’s no need to try.

The destination at end of day

will always be there anyway.

It is that place where I belong;

the next verse of my life’s song

sung in some discordant tone,

the fruit of life’s seeds I have sown.

But I hope that at the final bar

‘twill be the sound of a shooting star.

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About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri
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