Knowing something’s more…

The world tries hard
To crumble my bones, but never
Hard enough:

Today I stood at the window
Still as stone, watching

The sun sink into the ground
For more then an hour, I

Let my eyes adjust to the fading
Purple light, to the tortured sky

Till the tentacle that anchors
Everything became visible, just

Beyond the soft curve
Of the horizon, as it detached

And settled back down, into the
Shapeliness of its the womanly arch

And you know what you want
You want to be carried away from

Your fruitless labor, somewhere else
Birth to crows and vapor, a husk

As your former self falls dead on
The floor, all flattery failed,

All history erased,  more and more, then

The end of the print