call of the living

I caved in

to the silence

of the cicadas

unwittingly waving

at the shadows

that peer through the

slivers of grass

or am I alive

or dead to the call

of the living?

.

it is lonely

where I dip

paddling to keep up

with the carps

tossing messages

into the river

in little capped bottles

hoping that

the living shall

read it?

.

and I may be alive

or I may be dead

but at least

my soul does not

live in disguise

nor are they

lonely

or weary

to the call of the living

which I dread..

.

.

.