First And Last

I could perhaps record
in words
how once upon my life
inside
I found
a love
of me

I sat alone
in thoughts
of love
& death

(not Watts’
but ours)

And past the sunlight
on the woven mat
beneath my polished shoe
came cold,
free from
rejoicing,
knowledge
I was glad of me.

In forty years
of consciousness
one time

The first.

It brought relief

It did not last.

by Andrew Fincham

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