the preservation of fire

Does the drought that looms conjure

Wind which will bring the flames soon

The weight of living is carried

Just long enough

And then set down intentionally for a new

The mountain step an overachieving reach of the

Longevity of perseverance

Does love fret of its dissolution into violence

A demolition of sorts

I’m not sure the pieces I gave

And the pieces we dropped

Get recollected

For a translation is just an echo

And an echo eventually recedes

Isn’t it in the nature of conditionalities to whither

We are not inventors of anything

Our independence only a radiation of the Sun

The shape of a feeling

Does the texture make the thing more susceptible to metamorphizing

Tiny granules with tiny arms and limbs infiltrating

Every cavity filled

Until the original things exist no longer

Their internal structure, once an organic myth

Reflecting an eternal rhythm

Has been replaced by a mechanized false design

The beauty does not lie in the details

But in the vacated tenancy of untamed boundless form

How long would you stand

Not knowing who took you