This Poem Is Not Real
In the realm where shadows dwell, Mortality's grip on every soul does swell. Whispers of endings softly speak, A requiem for those deemed too weak. This poem is not real, but death's embrace, A universal truth we all must face. Through the veil of night, we journey on, Into the void where all is gone. The dance of time, a fleeting chance, To grasp at life's ephemeral trance. In the cosmic symphony of ceaseless flow, Our existence but a transient show. With each heartbeat, a countdown unknown, To the final verse we must intone. This poem is not real, yet it rings true, In the silent depths where fate imbues.
— Audre Lorde (but not really)
Audre Lorde was an American writer, professor, philosopher, intersectional feminist, poet and civil rights activist. She was a self-described "Black, lesbian, feminist, socialist, mother, warrior, poet" who dedicated her life and talents to confronting different forms of injustice, as she believed there could be "no hierarchy of oppressions" among "those who share the goals of liberation and a workable future for our children."