There is no figuring
To be had
Reason bereft in tatters lies
What moments bright
Soon obscure
As day sighs low
And night breathes in
Counting of how many gone
Pummels thoughts
Of meaning
Yet just because
Unperceived
In itself unsurprising
To need to know
A foolishness
Meaning
As snake in the undergrowth
Scatters fast at first noise
Revealing
When threatened
Hours cascade
Into months
Answers
Cascade into fogs
As breath persists
A joy in not knowing though
As if the lack
Is also promise
Of figuring
Beyond the skyline
Zubdig 