With Michael gone, this is all the more meaningful (to me). As an explanation, you cannot want for anything when you are dead.

ps. Someone had the fucking nerve to cruise by and ask if I'd really written this. God, that pissed me off so much I was just.... fucking.... gaaaah. Like, you know, it's not that fucking good, ok?

The End Of Want

On the day, the end of want,
as said by others with wisdom coming,
trumpets will blare as drums beat drumming
You will see yourself, as you are,
of one sweet note by Gaia made,
and for whom with a lover's breath I played

On the day, the end of want,
no wasted, blackened place will burn,
to lessen the beat, or hide my breath
No Satan's power, or wizard's cast,
no evil hunger, nor thunderous blast,
will stop my song for the one Beloved

And on this day, the end of want,
your beauty's note is last revealed as
one sweet tenor of burnished timbre
You play with passion your forever song,
the beloved's cry of last devotion
and I sing my ever always song for the lost beloved

~ started 199?? finally published 2006 after giving up on being able to do anything whatsoever with it

ps. I hope that stupid bitch who accused me of plagiary (wtf? and just how is that spelled anyway?) used it for a high school poetry submission and failed for being unable to explain it. I know how hard I am to understand. Morons.

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