Reclamation

And so it goes

from cradle to grave

From baby’s wail

to funeral laid

We reason, ponder,

dissent, and cry

As time repeats

and years go by

Sages offer

their grand excuse

In what’s left wanting

to feed the muse

But one thing’s certain

to never change

Death recycles

— the same old game

(The New Room: May, 2024)