Tabula Rasa
Tabula Rasa
It is the doom of all hurt feelings
To be subsumed under the greater hurt
That death will do us.
All slights shall be instantly forgotten
If they were not long before forgiven.
Beyond Lethe, a meadow,
Green and white,
Like a chalkboard after all
The lessons have been given.
Summer and not a name
Or figure written.
Just dust
That once was us.