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Existential
Some people carry their birthright of sadness
wandering the world to a place
where their tears may distill in longing
As for me, I taste them in the corners of my lips
describing the whys and wherefores of my existence
somehow not of them nor they of me
Perhaps I am a boat that has set out on a voyage
without a compass or a star to mark
my destination in the deep on which I bob
No Magellan I and no Columbus
writing presumptions on the map of time
I ascertain my distance from the shore
By broken allegiances and names
I can’t recall. Leviathan will swallow me
when doldrums leach the living from my heart
And to the waves and depths, and to the wind I say
I have a right to this small sadness
that sets my suffering off against the world’s
© Johnmichael Simon
2010
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