The Materialist's Sunday Morning Coffee

My soul is material.

My matter is temporary.

I am weary and blind on a red Sunday. 

The light from the candles changes my vision.

The children's voices change my feeling.

Cancerous dogs hold back another day.

That dandy hope has one last verse.

Listen, listen, listen, 

And try hard to forget.

What your soul demands 

Can not be thought of again.

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