To improvise something relevant
When you’ve lost interest in, or faith in
Or hope for, your species
Self-named with no sense of irony
“Wise man”, Homo Sapiens, is problematic
Except, today I received news
News of the death of a minute fluorescence
In a dull spread opacity of near stagnant water
The death of Vaclav Havel, playwright, prisoner
Political prisoner, constant caused with kindness
To lead, of necessity not profession
No place-man, in deed the right man in place
On the body politic there’s less
Than a hand space for such and seconds only
Room for any to make a scratch; what good
To scratch water? Still, the memory of a hot bath
Mid hypothermic death is mockery and comfort
Besting mockery alone. Screw that.
Push hope aside; resolve to die standing
A minuscular fading fluorescence
If only for the sense of it
The loss of it
The will of it
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