So since I’m still here livin’,I guess I will live on.I could’ve died for love–But for livin’ I was born.
Tag: Selected Poemsdeath
Let not the rash marble riskgarrulous breaches of oblivion’s omnipotence,in many words recallingname, renown, events, birthplace.All those glass jewels are best left in the dark.Let not the marble say what men do not.The essentials of the dead man’s life–the trembling hope,the implacable miracle of pain, the wonder of sensual delight–will abide forever.Blindly the uncertain soul asks to continuewhen it is the lives of others that will make that happen,as you yourself are the mirror and imageof those who did not live as long as youand others will be (and are) your immortality on earth.