Meaning of Life Poem by David Michael Jackson


SELF

So I said to myself
Self

Where is this leading

this living

this being

where is this leading I asked in a moment

of weakness

in a moment of pure futility

maybe the only pure thing I’ve

ever

known

as pure and as cold as the

mountain stream this futility

and I have made me a home in it

a warm home with a

fire

where I can burn my moments

and watch the smoke rise up from them

to heaven.

***


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