inevitable, mine.

o green, humble grass

how dare it go on growing

at the dawn of every spring

past the coldness of my death?

o bright, hopeful sun

how dare it go on rising

at every dark, careful morning

past the bleakness of my death?

o deep, chaotic seas

how dare they keep on churning 

at every soft breath of wind

past the helplessness of my death?

o vast heavy earth

how dare you let us die

of every subtle touch and ache

as ever you'll live on?