Sunday, January 6, 2013

I Thought Things Were Turning Around

The hope was as false as thinking
With all your heart that the sun
Wouldn’t set on the horizon but in mid-day
Decide to go backwards to bed,

Like believing that the ocean will have its fill
Of river water and stop its own evaporation
Denying the clouds their formation
Denying the soil its quench
Denying the basins their lakes,

Like thinking a generation could decide
Not to have children ending the whole human enterprise,
None of which are probable nor graceful.

What we’re left with are lungs that are pained
To supply oxygen to an ailing heart
That has all but stopped pumping itself
To keep a mind alive to know these wearisome things,
That change at the most fundamental levels
Is as impossible for creation as for a person.

No comments: