OF UNFINISHED MUSINGS(BARTHES THE DEATH OF THE AUTHOR)

All the sorrow in the world cannot express

an ounce of the regret I possess

that I did not push harder for you

And so, this is how a poet is born

chasing that, those, elusive...

Until the day I die, this is the hill I’ll die on

love conquers all or let it conquer me

until my bones are dust, and the world is no more,

till oblivion overcomes Armageddon

and the devil sees death

until love is all that remains, and I

his eternal slave sat waiting for you

until the dawn of Heaven comes again

and toil’s God’s bell

so that he may bring me his golden angel

and you, bring me to heaven or hell

then I say unto you, I beg and plead that –

write your story.