A mournful wind sighs across the water Rippling, flowing, silent, unstill A boat rises to hear its cries Creaking, groaning, moaning, unstill A hollowed tree drops its last leaf Falling, floating, drifting, unstill A ripple from the leaf laps at the shore Bowing, groveling, giving, unstill A bird sings to the coming dawn Laughing, twittering, flying, unstill For nothing is still

A promise appears with life. A breathe, then another and a loop emerges. Bounded to me, to the archaic assumptions of existence and of that possible greatness, we are defeated by a thought alone. Sadness is the exchange we carry deep within our organs, as if air is not enough. Happiness completes the exchange system of demise. Sealed inside our vascular psyche. Still, as ignorance, as a…