future past

Liquid
promises
in twilight
drink

I think
I might
give up
the fight

for love
causes
grief
and hate

and lately
I have been
contemplating
a state

of mind
that is hard to
find
in this society of

capitalist
impropriety
and single minded
accumulation

of things
shiny and bright
to please distant
unknown deities

I have to breathe
I have to envisage
an image
of an endless Sea

rolling white crested
waves
ocean-time slowed
gradually to

universe pace
where a life of
100 years
is the rate

a comet trail takes
to become invisible
to the eye
and my

life and death,
is simply unnoticed,
infinitesimally
minute, a tiny

inconsequential
speck of
dust in the
breath

of creations
future past.