Archive
09/17/10 - (3)
Lapsing
Though it's only been ten and a half weeks, Seventy-three days, since I was last here, The time elapsed seems to have collapsed back on itself. I feel at least a million eons older, Almost a ghost, only a mote of dust, A stranger to this remote place, village, lake, cabin, space, An interloper who's just wandered in, unannounced, A nobody sitting on this dock's wooden bench, An invisible visitor listening to the quiet nebulae of clouds Following solitude to the when at twilight's end, Where they'll be invited in, to spend the night with friends.
Is it conceivable that, in my brief absence, I ceased being Or, if not, that my memories forgot how to celebrate existence, The essential occasions they circled on my mind's calendar, To arrest the best moments of my anonymous destiny? My arrival even has my expectations distressed, Disturbed that time may have forsaken me as a beggar, A wayfarer without a name to his name, And doesn't know me from prelapsarian Adam. Could it be that the blood in my arteries has dried up, That my heart's not beating with the lake's, pines', sky's? I pray this is all just a passing autumnal lapse, on nature's part.
09/17/10 - (3)
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