he walked away
with the sting
of youth
burning
a halo

noted
by those
who know
that the passage
of the years as time
makes its relentless march
is simply because we got up
and retired to bed as he did
every day of every year

and one day daffodils
were covered by falling
leaves with mulled wine
in mourning as frost waits
knowing it will soon succeed
in bringing lasting shadows to
all living breathing creatures
including the man who
saunters on by

"I will beat this," I swear.
No one else has,
as there is no end,
but there must be an end.
I'll find it.

Watching everyone spin
on their axis,
touting their progress,
there must be a someone
or some thing!

Watch me spin.
Spin and fidget.
Watch me spin,
spin and fidget.

Spin the blades
to your right.
Now you're loading. Now
you're spinning.

"I will beat this," rings obsolete.
Now, "I will secede,"
seems pragmatic.
Is it romantic to
be at one with nothing?

Cross legged on the floor,
I whisper,
to myself,
"Oh,
         you
                 bet."