Edward Hemstreet is a surfacing writer from New Jersey, United States. In general, his writings center on depressions, the body, nature, and vignettes on mundane life. When not writing, he may be found drinking uncomfortable amounts of tea.
Within Passings When Socrates drank hemlock, I was in the chalice; I glided down his gullet And stopped him where he sat When Oscar Wilde passed his comments on the walls, I was the culture that teemed atop his brain, And so starkly stole the wealth of his wit To leave Britain bored Then in April 1912, when thousands swam their graves I was the Atlantic, with frigid crests of Blue And when you see your father for the last time In his bed, I will be the tumors that conquered all his gut And claimed his aging lungs with such a cunning silence No matter where you wander, your winding path will halt; I will be there Tall and stoic, To guide you to conclusion: A failure, a wreckage that leaves us hushly joined
[image: Chalice of Saint John the Evangelist| Hans Memling]