RDS

A beggars banquet

I saw a shade of myself 

Washed up and on the shelf. Spitting curses into a cup and hating myself for the bitter harvester I\'ve become. 

Plucking sour grapes, unripened off the vine. Making  bitter wine with fruity tones of revenge and torment. A tang of might fallen on the tongue. Fresh, like something new to despise. A compliment to hard cheese and cold boiled rice.

Tomorrow\'s problems always yesterday\'s surprise. 

An oversight, some blind spot in a view built from mud and air

Scattered here, patted there. 

Not to stay, a relief, finding space where the wash of humanity doesn\'t disturb,

the struggle to claw above it all

Then to fade away no more,

 immortal atoms stripped bare circling excitedly in the breeze.

Settling where new life breathes,

A leaf stirs with promise to reappear