as a boy I carefully made
monastery ruins
and watched the incoming tide
wash them away,
no trace remaining.
What a grasp of things
I nearly had before
my painfully crude correction
from left-handedness,
the ugly start of my social training.
At school
we were encouraged to have
a Purpose In Life,
something worth attaining.
I never had one. Now knowing
that the best of Man is his ruins,
I would like to leave
life with no memory
of me remaining.
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