(Untitled) — NaPoWriMo Day 18

It’s the blink of an eye.
From a carriage to rolling,
clumsy movement becomes graceful
we learn what love is and
trust — in that order? –
perhaps a manual, perhaps
automatic — evnetually even
this becomes rote. We learn and
learn and learn, formally
and through elders. Defined
roles take shape. Offspring
for some, some sore knees reveal
themselves, experince shifts
to wisdom, things slow down.
We can calcify or bloom.
Life may be hard, but we
can remain unbroken. Or
break. What do we get?
100 years? This universe
doesn’t notice, but some say
it needs us. Perhaps we are
both unimportant and critical.
Significant and irrelevant.
Regardless — here we are.
You and I. Expressions met
in a kosmological moment –
space and time.

April 18, 2019 · poems


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