A fraction of our existence,
Just a few hours in a future overview,
Yet such a worthless resistance,
An emotional slaughter to live through.

 

Nineteen days, a concentrated lifetime,
Could this be a final dedication,
A contrived moral crime,
Could this be our last dedication,
Incarcerated in poetical time?

 

Perhaps only one angel still takes flight,
Soaring, searching within, without you,
One last burning hope,
This icy cold, yet desperately warm nineteenth night.

 

1997