Friday, August 31, 2007

New Poem: The Minutes

The Minutes

Do the minutes ever coalesce into anything other than loss? The dark night, a dog barking in the apartment below mine. So many ways to say, "I am forgotten." But so few ways to say, "I am saved."

I do not believe in God. Maybe a hell of fire and brimstone awaits me, or maybe when this body ceases to breathe there is nothing, an emptiness that contains all.

We fight for minutes, seek solace in escaping the hands of the clock, but when the moment comes, we are unprepared. Afraid. Forsaken in a desert of doubt.

Half past twelve and still the dog barks, its owners still out. If for one moment any of us could fathom what comes next, there would be no need for alarm.

But we do not know, so we fear that which is a mystery.

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