Should I live for one reason?
Should I die for one reason?
But really, have you ever met a pebble, dear?
They are not precious, dear.
They do not take long, deep breaths
The sort of breaths that exhaust the soul
They do not absorb your remains
But they do fit in the palm of hands
slide into pockets
Must I live for one reason?
Must I die for one reason?
Have you heard laughs in the wood, dear?
Little laughs
sometimes gruff
they will ring in your ears through all your wild and soft walks
Did you hear them again? Or are the leaves simply singing?
Should I live for one reason?
Should I die for one reason?
Wouldn't it be simpler to live by ink and die by pen?
They can burn me with my books
They can feed me to the wolves that slink among the library shelves
insufficient sustenance
Have you ever met a pebble, dear?
I, myself, have met many.
And sometimes the right rock is known to bring me to shivers.
Have you heard a guitar cry, love?
Tears need not be visible to contain moisture
Have you heard it laugh?
Those deep sort of prayers that must be collected by someone up there with heavy arms
Must I live for just one reason?
Must I die for just one reason?
Or may I simply sit here on hard surfaces and listen to pebbles?
