Name anyone--now, when you take a breath,
one of his atoms flies into your lungs.
All history parades across our tongues,
and every exhalation conquers death.
For matter, not created nor destroyed,
but changed only in form, must then persist;
and all who existed must still exist,
though parts of them be differently employed.
Therefore, long after I take my last taste
of Einstein, Shakespeare, Lincoln and the rest,
and go to particles--don't be distressed,
my love, for nothing in us goes to waste:
In breasts unformed, in breaths untaken, we
will be together, elementally.
2 comments:
NO! NO! You don't have it right yet! You need to keep going and write at least another 364!!!
(I'll miss you when you're gone, dude!)
Thanks, greeny...I think...but the Project is indeed almost over, barring my getting hit by the hypothetical bus in the next 5 days. :)
However, I think this blog will live on. For one thing, just because I don't write a sonnet every day anymore doesn't mean I won't be writing anything--I might post incidental sonnets here, or even (*gasp*) other forms of poetry. I also plan, after a week or so of reflection on the Project, to write a big wrap-up post (not in verse...probably) about what I feel I'm taking away from it, if anything.
AND--I've got a pretty huge body of work here after a year of plugging away every day, and I think it would be wasteful if I didn't DO something with it. So as I figure out what that thing is (or those things are), I'll be posting updates on that kind of stuff here too.
But my days of daily sonnet production are numbered...as they have always been.
Thanks for reading.
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