To be afraid of death is bad luck to me, a fear <br />i expect no justice or mercy from. The fact that <br /> <br />my soul has twisted so much, i think the <br />roots are invading the darkness of light. The fact <br /> <br />that the earth can't even keep our tears warm <br />for very long. Now i do not think i will be thrown <br /> <br />to the bottom of Hell, bearing the odors of being <br />held in the world's vice: Remaining long enough <br /> <br />to look and read oblivion's face. I mean i hope at <br />least something will grow next to my grave, like <br /> <br />an immortelle or a branch of forsythia, and that <br />would be incredibly simple; Like heaven answering.<br /><br />gregory collins<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/aged-each-time-i-go-looking/
