My labor over life's enormous span

was interrupted by a sudden death.

I hope for people to recall what man

they knew before his last recorded breath.

I speak the language that I always spoke,

but not too loudly, more with feeling here.

I spend my time among the simple folk

I overlooked before. They still stand near.

I know the purpose and the meaning of my life!

I hover, ever watchful of your mood.

The light and darkness here reflect your strife.

I long to feed you with this special food!

Be seen and heard by all your dead! We live!

We walk the path with you, and we forgive.

from "Post-Existential Sonnets," Folio I
by Tom Mellett, Austin, Texas, 1987

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