Jéanpaul Ferro
Essendo Morti
Excerpt from Essendo Morti - Being Dead

Watering a Post

We were all born from the sons of pain,

an L of stars that graced the four corners 
of the nighttime sky,

Helen, we called one;

   she looked like a finger pointing right back at us,

Robert was another;

   he looked like a lost man in the dead of winter,

all of these legends that we made up for ourselves,
so we could all go on believing,

but don't fool yourself: mankind isn't that smart,

we can't even build something without first tearing 
something else good down:

   we dig a hole in the ground to put a building up,

   we leave our beautiful wives for a much better wife,

   we die in the millions within our wars, so there can be

the constellations, the stars, how come they all know?

they are here, and they will be here, long after us;

and they wait in silence every day,

in silence like they did before any of us ever came
into the narrative,

where maybe we should have been left standing only
slightly off-stage. 
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