He was alive if breathing be called life,
Peaceful and blissful with no surface strife,
To me, he was suffering for far long,
The man I knew— a man of self-esteem
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And man's body being a garment born/Like any raiment gets worn out and old.......well said sir! This is a beautiful poem carrying philosophical intensity...10
Very brave of you Dr Swain to read this rather longish poem on death and euthanasia, on which I feel very strongly and penned a few poems as well. Thank you so much.
And I notice, long poems are generally left unread, without comments, and wonder aloud what can be done.