Because the face betrays
the body's dread, no shadow
dark enough to veil the flesh.
O child! death comes surely
even to those who refuse it.
How long will your ephemeral
room surround you, defend you,
a disintegrating shell?
Who will gather your bones
like fallen flowers and
lay them in the earth?
When fog comes heavily
on grey-white feet, obliterates
carvings on the man-made stones;
now, my heart, your secrets are
eternally your own.
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