Saturday, September 26, 2015

Wandering the heritage of masons

This place is comforting again—
with all its granite reminders of impermanence,
all its arms of flesh pointing toward trustworthy destination.
I love these monuments to the promised outcome
of my every capricious breath.

I believe Heraclitus got it right.
There is only becoming and conflagration.
My body today is a resurrected being in relation 
to my body seven years past.
In another seven years I will possess the body of another stranger.
I will never be the same.
There are only eternal goodbyes,
eternal hellos.

And so, for what it's worth, I spent the afternoon in confrontation
with the universal gift of accretion and entropy.

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