I danced in this great and ancient forest that
have had grown over the course of centuries- leaving half
eaten morsels of it’s decaying ancestors to revisit later.
The forest is fearless and unforgiving. As I reach deeper into it’s center,
plums packed away for lunch are forgotten in a small tin container.
That is the curse of nature’s strange beauty. Things that
were planned and placed away for later, scheduled and cataloged
in preparation for a future time are deemed useless and eventually forgotten in
the same way nature fades everything to dust, decay. Our little
icebox, so new and perfect, will you miss it when it collects dust
and grime- dirt from outside. The forest:
which of these ancient trees will survive me?
You are but a second to nature,
where foliage and weather overtake the greatest of skyscrapers, and
probably much less than a thousandth of a second to the celestial bodies:
saving time on their clock across the millennia.
From birth to death the universe, our small joyful things like
breakfast and plums make our faint and fading mark on it.
Forgive me for this somber retelling of the story you and
me have been reciting since emerging from the womb. Babies:
they dream of stars and trees and lifetimes
were time will erode them to nothingness. So I will take this moment and enjoy these
delicious plums. Life does not offer any more permanent of joy then that
so sweet against my tongue. So so
sweet against my tongue and just as fading
and impermanent as me.
So short a life for each of us before fading into the
cold, but when my body turns to dust, may it reform into a star.