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Blatissimus | Poem

 
 
 

BLATISSIMUS





In the beginning, it ended

With the threnody of birth....

Just the flutter of a mocking-bird

Bespeaking itself.
 

Time once had us firmly in its grasp:

Its knuckles are now too white

With our wriggling

For us ever to believe it invincible.
 

Again....
 

- David W. Mitchell
 

to David    to Moongate

.