Let us shout, weep and sing,
  for every dark and bright thing.
Let us joy in the breath,
  for the minutes we have left.
  
Such is life for the muse within,
  the dearth of art the cardinal sin.
And so I scribble, wail and boom,
  my art my mark upon my tomb.

Read More in Bryant's Book or Collection:

• Collected Works of Poetry, Photography and Art