taste of death

when anger poisons the water
do you blame the cup
from which you drink
or do you go search 
the source? 

the ego floats in the well
grasping the mossy slick
walls for life
and begs you for the rope
do you let it down? 

you sit with your tea
and watch the steam
swirl outside of time
and its scent smells 
of release and 
the taste of 
death soaks the leaves. 

Be free in the present,

Trace

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