Poetry: February 23, 2003

What else is old age but
an accumulation of sorrows 
from Grace it steals time and 
from Space it only borrows


The self that loves self 
follows love 
the self that does not 
follows judgement
and can never be fulfilled 
and this is hell 


O BEAST 
THAT LIES
BETWEEN MY THIGHS
AND CHANCES NOT 
A REST
AND TO THINK
(BEFORE IT ALL
WENT SOUTH)
IT ALWAYS POINTED
WEST!


COPYRIGHT SANANDA MAITREYA - MILANO 23rd FEBRUARY 2003