Do you consider yourselves homeless?
Your entire being perched in peril,
poised upon stages ephemeral –
ink-scarred papyrus, disintegration fated;
the cloud illusory, tethered threadless on electric lines;
the mistsome wisps of mind…
they dance their dance to the promise of a dissolution.
You live there, on these plains
of permanently passing light
that leave no rock-bound roots to,
in time’s soil, lie.
Your essence, earnestly put forth
unto impermanence to weather storms
of whetherwhims that dictate
if you die…
Fallen to the paving slabs –
the foliage,
no longer bound.
A branch – bare – budding
with the scourge of mem’ry.
Image credit – Spine Online
william altoft 