Poetry: The path a path takes

But then who could you count as reliable who could not manage a stave or two of The Waste Land?

– Imperfect Recall, Christopher Hitchens

It is true
That movement is traceable
And has an origin.
Yet, one’s origin
Is invariably the end of another.

Like a flower in endless bloom,
In the moment the petals wilt,
The new ones are born again.
Though the flower forever lunges forward,
It never quite is alongside Time.

Such is the world we live in:
A complex web of action
With inevitable reactions,
Where every action
Is also a reaction
To an action prior.

Think about it.

Even Birth, that most initial
Of beginnings, the most prior,
Is but a reaction
To Attachment and Attachment,
A reaction to circumstance.

It may seem futile, being pieces
In a puzzle but never
The puzzle itself.
But, futility is a conclusion
We must all be resigned to.


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