How a year goes by – and
we are barely aware
We are boats
firmly docked at a pier
Are we still uncomfortable that we float on water
and not on our dear terra firma?
Or are we weirdly solaced
by the mere fact
we have not gone anywhere
Yes – we’re still here –
That’s one positive in our precarious voyage
But at night, listening to stars fall
and the moon change phase
I wonder how we measure progess –
If not by miles, is it by revolutions?
The hands of the clock
are the obvious agents provocateurs
But how about the moon unravelled?
A circle stretched onto a surface?
Time cycling by in a line;
Sine waves lapping beneath this stationary ship;
Say it’s just my heart, beating
My body on saltwater, floating
Mathematical primum mobile of foolish dreams?
Or tiny raft, shimmering in the breeze?