The Accursed Sovereign

Coffee

Coffee, black

naked and black.

Once limpid, now heavy.

Steam rising, reaching

or is the sky falling?

Sitting alone now,

the coffee cools;

once so hot, it has lost its energy

passion;

its telos lies in abating itself.

Can one temper the ebbing, or are

We left at the will of the Moon, above.

Blame the Moon; it could neither change

nor mend our ways.

Pour it out; I must brew another ‘fore

I must forget this lovely, wasted coffee.

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