One more: "Amnesty for My Days"

Amnesty for My Days

The end never came, world spinning on.
Here in the fluorescence of my duration
No drugs now sopping spirit,
No opiate can match the blinding summer sky
No shot shall lay waste to the beauty of being.

Each morning now so sacred, as if
A multitude of angels would herald each
Crowning dawn. That is to say the dawn is
Born the same as any infant; each day
A newborn aging into night, deceased at moonrise.

The vastness of this life is oceanic and symphonic
And although we've grasped yet one more chance
             "The center cannot hold"--
at least, that is, secure will crumble
If we go on numbing,

And killing off all days to come would be
a spirit genocide, infanticide, love horrified
          by how we'd dare to wither.
Capitulation to despair can never be okay.
The obligation, clearly cast, is opting for ascension.

Eternity of lifetime will not be quite so eternal
If we choose the path of spoons and pipes
     and cans and broken bottles.
There is yet a chasm six feet down to catch our end.
The question, then, is whether you will gently lay,
       or burning, descend.

7-20-2010