It’s early November,
A piercing breeze has brought autumn to the edge of my windowsill
The seasons turn; each blowing a new grain of sand into the palm of my hand
If I stay here a thousand years,
I could build a mighty castle
Or perhaps a sand-dune for the march of the ants.
They would then go about their business gathering food
Building newer and better sand-dunes.
Cities, countries, civilizations worth!
This would naturally require a great deal of
specialization, delegation, allocation, rationalization and a bunch of other ~tions
peppered in with a few ~isms that imprison the random play of free association.
There will be subjects, objects, abject rejects;
the desired and undesirable tucked away in monochrome cubicles
on keyboards to optimize proficiency and eliminate redundancy
in order to propel the species to build newer and better sand-dunes.
Or…I could just wipe my hands clean.
Pull my collar up and walk into the city
Its crystal lights .