It is so nice under the sun
That I do not notice
the days draw past
or how I settled into this rhythm
where I sleep and eat too much
and forget beauty
but also loneliness.
It is so nice
that I no longer fear
the purposelessness of endeavor
in the shadow of the grave.
It is so sweet
to sit in the shade
and hear starlings whisper
and watch the clouds fade to purple.
It is so nice under the sun
that I barely rue
all that I have lost.
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