things don't exist in retrospect
and if something
eventually
doesn't exist
than what is
This?
Is it at all?
Once something is gone
one wonders where it went,
perhaps it was never really here,
and it's form was only a word,
hollow and limp,
set adrift and filled
with the wind
which it truly is.
Perhaps
we shall see.
Perhaps
Not.

In any case,
once we are the hollow again
it won't mind,
as this is we are the wind.