Unconsumable

those that die young
do not give us the lasting impression,
if at first we feel so sad
not having fully enjoyed the value of their company,
soon,
like everything we have
lose itself in time,
time like a constrictor gobbles
every value
of our presumed greatness
we have always been a matter of
time's consumable
perishable like a fruit
a biscuit
a letter yellowing and become
another waste,

i think about this and one day
i see light
on something within that cannot be
consumed

you know it
i will not tell you and you do not have to tell me.

it is light, it is so light.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!