Beata Beatrix

Sitting still
In the eloquence of silence
I’m thinking deep
About ending things

To be spared of oblivion
And the privilege of hope
The vain urge to be loved
And the placid sadness
Beneath the moon of
Many tender evenings

To be unoccupied
By promises of books
When today is yesterday…

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In this sense,

I am already dead.

Motionless in the air

A pendulum hung

Where time has stayed in place

Locked by the routine of a clock

Surveying promises

Predating paradise

God is watching

In His narrowest light

This enigmatic corpse

Eternity awaits

To be forever

But never to have…

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Beata Beatrix

Beata Beatrix

From Malaysia. A business owner. A painter and a closet poet. Hates roaches.