END II

Having concentrated me inside myself
Collected pieces, songs for a troubadour
Separated and examined, truth exposed
Of words written beyond life somehow
Breaching the veil, wrenching death
Out of the living, startling the supposed
Puzzle, having to deny it was my intention
To uncover hidden ground, to re-establish
My foundations upon these bits of rubble
Wreckage of a soul cemented again
Into new conglomerate.  I had to consent
Accepting the consequence of rebirth
Learning from my errors, circular stairs
Leading nowhere, returning to where
I had begun, snatched from transience
As an infant, by prayers to stay longer
To live out my years, to know more of tears.

c) Jan G. Otterstrom F.
    March 25, 2007
    Costa Rica