#10

The Hour I First Believed

The tunnels that he dug
never meant anything.

The dirt disappeared, it was eaten
by the ragged earth in an instant.

His hard work was nothing
but trees to paper. Hardly worth forgetting.

And in an instant, were he
to realize this. Destruction.

Were any of us to grasp fully
our meaning it would be too much.

We must hope and pray (sometime)
and dig ever deeper. down and down.

Though sweat appear and
blood linger in our bodies.

It will all evaporate. Permanence
is an impossibility. Biting

our own teeth, our mouths
falling apart. Sides of a cliff.

You can lead a horse to water.
You can, and what will it do?

Will it drink? It has to.
It will drink to continue.

How will you feel about the horse you led?
What conflict will it be in you?

What conflict in the horse?
Will you just construct

a useless metaphor from old
sayings to get on?