Sunday, September 27, 2020

An Art to Make Dust of All Things

If there’s no task,
No one who needs
You to stay here,
Then you may leave.

You’re free to leave.
But that’s a spot
Of joy, is it
Not, just to float,

To stay on when
You don’t have to,
There’s no need to,
And then to be?

Time’s change is clock
Change—beat, pulse, thrum.
The dust floats on
Past all clocked sums.