Forever Is Not So Long
Out there is a canvas
all gradations of black and white and metallic shine,
but flecks of life here and there
among the synthetic bustle.
The organic punctuates--no--it defines.
It punctures the plastic surface
and the real escapes in bursts;
irrepressible shocks of air which force us to breathe and know.
And know whom? Or what? Or whence?...
Or why it is we know not until it happens upon us?
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