Take more, I told the stranger on the street and he happily took it,

more, they all take more even when I am burdened greatly and when

I ask if they want more, they see my burden and say yes, yes, it is always

more for them, less for me and I am quite weary, the dark road beckons and

I find it comforting, the moss and decay, like me, crying out, nothing

to wonder about and I can feel coldness seeping into my body, bones,

heart and spirit, till I am beginning to bend, to fall, to crawl

for the darkness is heavy, like my spirit wanting to bear all

and yet I find no redemption in mankind’s choices when

they take more without giving, more, it was another more and less

for me.