Monday, July 9, 2012

3770. HESITATING

HESITATING
There is a man here hesitating; hesitating for
nothing at all. He strides over the fur-lined bridge,
and the lone eagle watches him pace. A few of
the local natives, leftover from age-old battles,
still wince as they think of him passing. On
the floor, there's an old caloric bottle filled
with something no one knows. No one goes.
-
That needle in the haystack everyone mentions  - 
it too has been found wanting, long gone, empty
of any meaning, hollow, useless, of no report at all.
We all turn to leave at once, realizing, finally,
that's there's never been anything here; no,
there's never been anything here at all.

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