Wait:
I'm not dead yet…
	 Per chance, 
       
A Gentle breeze slips through the cracks,
Spinning the dead leaves within.
	A rogue tornado takes shape and is gone.

I'm ready.
	To abandon my self.
       
This place is unkept and in need of repair.
A mix of cobalt and charcoal.
	 I will suffer it no more.
Nothing wishes to grow here…now.
	 Oh I long for the sun.
	 A sudden gust of the soul
	 To once again find companionship among the trees.
		  How softly they whispered to me, 
		  How I used to hear their every word.
I'm not dead yet…
As I write this, 
Divinity's spark electrifies my being,
Running rampant through this crude implement.
Haphazardly smeared upon this page.
	 Conservation of energy at its best.
There is still some to give, 
I still have something to give…
I'm not dead yet.
     
© 2002 Kevin Clous
NEWTON'S 2ND
KEVIN CLOUS
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