Everything fades, which requires coming to terms with
just how hard it is to establish a new normal. Like late
harvest grapes turning in the sun
we’re all damaged goods.
Decisions made in haste. Desperate to delineate
the fine line separating heaven from hell,
the wise man culls what he no longer needs –
a humanly impossible undertaking.
“May you always be poor and devoid
of complexity,” whispers the weary wind
as we pass the place where he rests.
“At least then you’re interesting.”
R. M. Dolin, 2015