What day is it now?
How long has it been?
I miss my lover and my friend
And while it’s not quite really a sin
I’ve now fallen in love
With a very light wind
Someone to speak with
This breeze she is mine
We’ll speak with each other
And we’ll speak in rhyme
While my body’s become
A negative space
Where flesh used to be
And what once had a face
I’m beginning to wonder
If I’ll ever return?
Is this absence forever
Or just a lesson to learn?
A fire to cook with
Or just something to burn?
I’m losing track of my thoughts
Like ash from the urn
But the wind she has born
On her wings my concern
What day is it now?
Has it been long, or rather tall?
What does it mean to be a day?
Or to even have a name at all?
Are they still keeping track?
Still going to, and still going fro?
Is there a go to be there now
Or is there another name to go?
Another long to be this day?
A who to speak when time won’t show?
A hot beneath when would it be?
They say it’s high, but feels quite low
It won’t be then, but it could have been
Blue sky within these hungers grow
Wars could be fought
And we’d still know not
Who lit the fire beneath the pot?
And where is the fish that wasn’t caught?
And what is the point of all this talk?
The wind is quiet, there’s not a lot
To say, and again, what’s the point?
This
This is the point
And the afternoon inside it
Where all things end
Like the sea upon the shore beside it
Our time, it nears
We’ll be leaving soon
Back to the minutes, hours, and years
Because our food is gone and we can’t hide it
Just how long have we really been gone?
Its better not to speak, or even write it
With lead or ink or flame or blood
But we’ve seen the mid-day low
Become the noon high flood
And the moon that was halved
Now both halves show
And that’s it
And that is that
And that is all we need to know
-Matt Beard