a water bucket at the top of its circular trip

the following is lost on loss

*

history

is agony

in the making

which is why

it birth pains and

age stumbles

wholly and totally

making mistakes

until there is

no mistake left

in death

*

the world from above

looks blue and drowning

underneath,

it hurts always

*

in the end

there will be no end

for all will have passed

into some bit of never

like a shadow without a body

just darkness walking

and lonely

waiting for day to make it full

waiting for night to make it fuller