Raw Poetry by Rev. Shakes Spear
The Same When you see it’s all the same There’s no use in naming names It all comes down, again, to either this or that. When you hear the same old tune Morning, night, and noon Only Suns and Moons can show you where you’re at. Shadows fall like heavy curtains On the sure and uncertain Bringing, once again, either Sleep or Death. The righteous and the wretched, self-indulgent and the Blessed Will never hear that precious final breath. 2-11-24