Ends
Rarely are ends anything other than painfully sad.
They're almost never filled with intimations of gladness,
Glimmers of hopeful closures,
Prospects and possibilities of green pastures
Opening onto salvation's graces,
Be they the finality of a troubled love affair,
The passing of a parent, spouse, child,
Denouement of a flawed but exciting idea,
Finish of a season, dismantling of a sturdy belief,
Lapsing of a friendship, loss of your mind, to dementia.
And yet, tonight, this lonely Friday night,
At the distant end of an exceedingly desperate disconnect
With a lady I tried my best to please, and failed,
I sense an ever-so-minuscule glimpse of renascence
Prophesying hope for my spirit's end of ends.
11/21/08 - (3)
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