“No Hurry Here”
No hurry here, my friend. We’re good.
Suns rise, planets phase, the stars occluded
In eternal night for us, denuded
For the spectacle of the age as well they should,
Arranging, rearranging, fires aging, and would
It not be so, we stand here drowned in light, deluded
In the glories of the senses; the curtain down, the play concluded,
No more weighty moment waits than any stage could
Bear before the audience and the players notice
Satyrs in between the acts, their gains and winnings never noted
In the dusts of righteous critics in the press save to meet their deadlines
Like haughty dandelions and crabgrass choking fallow fields consigned
To be the wonder of some future generation’s panoply in the cosmic lists
No more nor less erased in time, no more nor less devoted.