“It Won’t Take Long”
It won’t take long,
But even so
I’ll wait in the snow
And rain while the day’s song
Plays on. I do not know
What you won’t see
Nor do you care where I will be;
What the step or where the cold
Staircase up or down;
What fortunes drown,
What age or travels, old
Or new-found; what sight, what sound
The hour brings nor what we answer for
When all is said and done. Who reckons,
Finds himself in error; who seconds
The thought forfeits game and score
No matter who he is and what his goal;
Shares short or long, the interface is immaterial
To the whole. Whose beside the Etherial
Affords a vantaged seat above the young and old?
Whose beside the Ancient of Days travels
Length and breadth of paths-cum-streets, with or without terminus?
Cum adsunt testimonia rerum quid opus est verbis?*
What Creation weaves no man fathoms nor unravels.
Perfidious the thought of negation; if anyone declares otherwise
He sells himself something that even fools learn to despise.
The tedious first, the tenuous last;
Closures to the present are ransom for the past.
*When the proofs of facts are present, what need is there of words.