591. IN THE ANCIENT RAIN

IN THE ANCIENT RAIN
I am walking the rocks of a million years;
skipping over the bonefield in the
more-than-ancient rain. Everything I pass
is all asunder - meanings, extrapolations
and designings too. Salt runs from rocks,
as well as from all the old passages of time.
An indecision now certainly marks my
decision to go on. I am in turn now only
bleeding for you. Emotion. Heart. Head.
-
Nothing different between those three
makes me pledge myself to such a unity -
the way the world is held together, the
regal manner of ice-age and death and
extinction. This ancient rain (and yes, yes,
I am still walking over the bonefield)
resounds with its echoes of all that was.
-
Forever is a long time.
The instant is now.
The ancient rain has
dissolved all things :
all empires and castles
and kings.
-
We are like children of a storm,
silent and struggling, while trying
to play in the puddles it has left
behind. This ancient rain draws
pictures in the clouds, reflections
on the water, and - in the distance,
like raindrops peppering the puddle -
shimmering ideas of what still can come:
Chimera and overflow, malice and doubt.