Game of Never

a poem by Paul Butters, UK

Life-Death Forgotten,
Never Was;
Time, matter whirling,
Empty Space.
Love, merely hunger,
Drives us On;
Self, ever lonely,
Rots apace.

Faintly ruling,
Far away,
Sees sinful, lusty liars pray.
Vague faceless ocean,
Blackest Light;
Nothing tells us What is Right.

Life is but a Game we Play;
No more than End of Day,

(Yet Remembered,
With Hope).

Paul Butters

(C) PB 22\4\1971.
(Final two lines 13\6\97).

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