money,
always, easily slipped
through my
fingers
lands that i
tried to own also slid
quickly from
my hand
the bed i
slept in the night
someone else
secretly
occupied in
the day
the juvenile
bird i cuddled
in my bosom
to give warm
comfort and a nest
flew away to
build her own
my remains
too, soon
the fire
will consume
leaving,
perhaps, my soul
to merge
with that larger soul
that
welcomingly smiles
from behind
the veil
© henry victor
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