The value of my soul
Is in the way
I live
Not in being
Different from me
I have no use
For alterity
Or sterile people
Who never step
Out of their little worlds
Who always cross bridges
Before they get there
The summary of their lives
Is like a bad draft
Of a novel
That will never be published
Because it does not bear repeating
A concept lost
In the snows of time
Never to be mourned

9-10-03
Laura R