We train our mornings to lead somewhere to life’s grand end-statement ,an aphorism ,a postponement of our death unilaterally. When one makes it one lives on as words.

Some one is sniggering at a postponement. It is raining outside , the end of all corners where Tarkovsky would live as in Polaroids . He tries to balance the corners in darkness.

We now try to postpone death to the end. Death is his end statement of who sniggers. Death be not proud is poet’s end statement, a postponement by he who cannot snigger.


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