Untitled Poem #11

The Devourer of Time
Preys on my mind,
Like hawks trained
On rodents, as cats
Play with mice, without
A single sight until
Their swift descent or
Claw-flexed pounce
And then it’s too late,
Just a final moment
To know mortality,
It will die with Time.

For a little while
I got away with it,
Quick-witted weaving,
A duck and a dive,
I threw Life’s towel
Into the ring and Life
Threw it back at me.
Fooling myself in to
Believing I was beaten
By other shadow-boxers,
Boxing with darkness,
Never with light, and
Praising those winners
Who were really beginners
When considered within
A divine love of night.

Humanity is its own
Casualty, a dog and cat
Are no more real than
That which our individual
And collective minds
Conceive and bind in
A conscious contractual
Agreement. What then of
You?, cowardly death,
Contriver of causality.
The less I see of Nature,
The more I see of Greed;
Without converging on
These matters, this
Would not be a man,
And you would not be me.

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