UPON READING “ON SEEING THE ELGIN MARBLES”

I fear nothing less than mortality
and its dearest old friend, infinite Sleep,
which calls to me from its mountain throne, steeped
in the unknown desire for peace: to die
still believing in a walkable sky.
I have thus had many chances to weep
over lost loves I once intended to keep
near, so no longer must I dry my eyes.
Though, on that final bed, watch as my brain
wars with my heart, building on their aged feud;
search within me and discover this pain,
and watch as my last breath becomes a rude
awakening: that this life is the main
life, chiseled into marbled magnitude.

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