• R. E. Maynard

A Duality with the Tests of Time Lessons Life’s Fearful Curiosity Over Death

Updated: Nov 18, 2020


Sitting on the edge of a befitting end, do I seek every regrettable notion that I ever existed in the realm of the living, as emotional wealth longs for my saddened face pasted with a frown.


Even in this duality with death do I wish to beknown for a history foretold by the sorrows of every single humanistic appeal forsaken in the very plot of my own demise.


No surprise that a life of misfortunate occurrences leaves me pondering yet another means to a subtle goodbye, as my story founded the basis for stealing dignity while lessening my gamut for gravitating in the gracefulness from such loving times lost in heartache.


Damned be the posture of a man carrying the world upon his able shoulders, strengthen by a core raging with the fiery pits of Hell’s fury atop a heart broken in disbelief.


Maddening to believe such a lifetime of battle-scars brand a human’s flesh, sold by the pounds, and torn from the reality of each breath taken for granted.

Suicide escaped my demeanor best serving a last presence upon an Earthly stay, whereas, an ill-fated existence of self-destructive measures might have a lesser burdensome heart to weigh my scales for justice, but I must believe every breath attending to my fearful curiosity leaves forgiveness for disregarding the devil’s dues.


In discovering the very heart spilt across walking paths for all to witness such a history becoming anew, I came alive with death grasped in my hands firmly, while such a fate never realized that I favored living a lasting life of memories made with those people who stand the tests of time.


Only my faith broadens a heart hurt by fearful curiosity, trusted bonds thus thereof, I shall live yet another day’s ticking while each moment of my broken cloak shifts realities abound, as time remains relevant to death’s presence in my heart’s forsaken time lost.


Now I live each moment like no other shall redeem another, as the importance of life must be a constant reminder of the times awaken to a brand-new morrow’s tidal breath, and as I inhale a life never forsaken again––an exhale proves my breath remains intact.

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R. E. Maynard 

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