Unchanging, a fiction

Monuments turn to ruins
Each chiseled stone covered
with weeds, woven
in time, nature always triumphs
its children grounded
for breaking curfew

Cities rise, thrive, fall, rot
under a Sun that
in time
fade into quiet insignificance

Earth, unchanging
a fiction
for Time plays its
symphony not for humans
its notes too few and deep
in a lifetime.

Everything else

Today is the first day of
the rest of your life;
as if
that is some sort
of profound
commencement wisdom

So comes the future
at the speed of time
unavoidable unless
you have handy access
to a starship
that sees all space

We exist
we have existed
we’re going to die;
everything else
is liable to change

Today is the first day
of the rest of everything else.

To tread behind is myth

Vellum lays, still
supple after centuries
in a library long vacant
ink greyed, now translucent
holy secrets stand the
test of time.

At some point
letters cross a plane,
to tread behind is myth
forward, history

Even with the grandest
and most intricate tech,
some books
bring forth a glorious
epic, enraging
and the past
rarely clarifies mysteries
like any quality magician.

Tongues forget

The last rune
traveled through time and
lays, scarlet on limestone
witness to horrors
turned heroic
for that is what victors proclaim

A tale triumphed
over starboard bow
to those ignorant
of its glory

Each season’s turn
tongues forget
or their owners come
to reside
in earthen mounds
facing an obsidian sea

all that is left
is mystery.

As if such words were true

In wastes so scorched that
even scrub brush finds no sanctuary
sits a box of cheap wood-
in another universe perhaps
an Ikea desk for an impressionable
young adult.

Empty, its occupant
stubbornly refusing lodging
thinking — no, no! I have
many grand years ahead!
As if such words were true.

There are few constants
amidst vast
collective chaos.
The sun rises, the sun sets
the box must return

to the soil where the pine
once stood.