The breath of what might be
your life less firmly held
yet falling under nature's spell
settles on a frosted window pane
to crystalize this unsure moment
like epiphany
upon an empty road
at dead of night, amid some stones
strewn on some unknown hillside,
no more than uninviting,
no less than hostile
and not where once we thought
this road might lead
when there was light;
where it might take us
when the world was young,
at least was younger then
than now it seems.
So, sighing, here we sit
awaiting news of how it is
that nothing lasts forever.
.
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