Resquiescat in pace
A man can tear away from his life but his contract is sealed
Stamped in red blood wax spilling an imprint upon papers artlessly flung as histories pass
yet are congealed
in our minds the past is at war with itself
in disarray as a house divided can only fall
like falling waters
in a vortex
He opens the missive and finds it empty
Only its envelope is stamped with the truth of its origin and plumbs all reason
Flynnpoetry 