Like sand dripping from
your hands, but more precious,
like the icy center of
the purest diamonds
you want nothing more
than to cling to it fiercely
like fresh water in the
the year 2030, you need it,
cannot live without it
and yet it seems determined
to run out and so you lose
determination- willing to succumb
to the inevitable separation.

Either by law or by sword
you let go, one or both,
and hunt for the reason,
but none are the reason
that frantic logic purports.
The reason is no more
than lack of effort.

Somewhere between love
and selfishness the wheel
was claimed by desperation
and somewhere between
having in grasp and the
fear of loss came about our
inevitable estrangement.

And now breathe is not fresh
and water does not quench
and life is not lived
because somewhere between
me and you raged a battle
of self-importance and
looking at flowers and
bees we wonder at the
glorious interdependence
we so hungrily crave but
ferociously fight and
so we wait for death to
soften the blow and rescue
us all from our
self-imposed plight.

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