Why is it that the ones you love the most
Usher in joy but always wind up ghosts?
Do what you can
With what you have
In seeking more
And you'll have it

Each small move
Moves the hour hand
(we float, not static in space)
Lives ornament the whole face
This much is apparent

After the fact
While waving
At miasma
With that same low face
As if you never knew better