TIME REMAINING

I

I mature

like a rich quarter of town

with its own sense of

belonging –

not through propriety but

the passage of time –

enough days to make

a life, a clearing in

the forest.

II

Fields of grain

and a good life among

companions –

their grief a gathered

worship, the track of

a difficult birth –

open bones

troubled dust.

Some are carried

through a thousand

victories

others must lay down their lives

for a sigh.

Each has his goodness stolen.

III

My sight is

a standing flower

my sound

a rejoicing people

moderate in their convictions

and secure

in the growth

of their own minds

each restless but

awakened

and no one

taking offence.

IV

I like simplicity with

fortifications.

I am without

a language

lost in the fog of being

alive

of being a singular

thing.

V

I have been

robbed.

No doubt.

The law is

a mystery but

the ultimate paradox

must be a love without

bondage. 

VI

It cannot be proved

but I discern a

sensation following

a sensation

like water in its

passing away

like waves towards

a better future

without prejudice without

collective hysterical

Humanity.

VII

Can you conceive

of a life where

everything is

a fragment and never

develops

exhausting

itself through

the distance it must travel

simply to be

a fragment?

VIII

All founded on

nothing, like you

said. Only your words

found it.