reflection on the life well-lived (wip)

Life is not for comfort's sake,
nor is a still room enough to keep
its flame - Life is not peace.

Life is not peace, but a wonderful violence
and a tender fist of bruised of earth
and the welt that spreads a blush.

Life is the struggle, to live to fear
to find disparity in dispositions,
and disparate - life binds the desperate.

Life occurs in pains, and colours
and names itself with clamour,
or writes itself in scars.

Life is not peace, Peace speaks:
absolute - with such-silence.
Life is our oldest verb - its
'in the doing', and the changing.

Life haunts by groves of sycamour
though they keep holds of death in sight.
Life is the Immanence: the in this 'thisness'.

Life is our lettings go,
and our fallings together.

-BN