A moment here does not promise tomorrow.
But it holds a taste of eternity in your hand,
In what strength your fingers have,
In what dust crumbles and floats beneath your palm.
One sneeze will do it.
One gentle gust of wind
And all that, to me, was everything,
Is lost to you forever.
And you walk on
Guided by that wind or that sneeze,
Feeling as though you moved toward something
But forgetting, as you clench your fist,
What could have led you righteously.
And I, eternally here, eternally you,
Prick my skin and bleed, unrelenting,
Upon this momentless dirt
That shifts and blows away
Bringing with it the smell of roses that you remember later
But forget today in passing.
Who are you and what is this gnawing in your gut?
The abyss I crumbled into
As the breeze of you passing sacrificed the ashes to it.
Oh rite, oh divine intervention,
Oh, to bleed, Christlike,
Upon the soundless face of an earthward sky.
And press this stone,
Not eternal but close to its seeming endless horizon,
Only to fall into it, willingly,
Even if clumsily.
And that cry, again, calls roses to you
Making you smile for no reason
Heedless that you should weep as you walk through here,
This flowerless place, where petals turn ashen
And float thoughtlessly, forgetfully,
Into time.
