Because today we did not leave this world, We now embody a prominence within it, Even amidst its indifference to our actions, Whether they be noiseless or not. After all, nonsense is its own type of silence, Lasting as long as the snow on your Tongue. You wonder why each evening Must be filled with a turning away, eyes to the lines Of the hardwood floor as if to regret the lack Of movement in a single day, our callous hope For another wish put to bed with the others in a slow Single-file line. I used to be amazed at the weight An ant could carry. I used to be surprised by Survival. But now I know the mind can carry Itself to the infinite power. Like the way snow Covers trauma to the land below it, we only Believe the narrative of what the eye can see. Copyright © 2016 Adam Clay. Used with permission of the author. |
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