March 7, 2008
To whom it may concern,
As wisps of daylight blend and fade, and weeks, as shapes, contort and fray,
the time within all swells and seeks
and sputters to give us but two weeks,
and I shall give you my last day.
Light hands can heal through bounty and fast,
but not, for never, the floundering quell.
Your light, though beams, is sad as well,
for March 21st shall be my last.
In Certain Sincerity,