After a Week of Rain on a Small Planet Spinning in the Void
Notty Bumbo, 2019
How can we know where we are going
When we haven’t yet arrived?
This Universe spins in infinite orbits,
Drags the frame of each existence
Through endless permutations.
Yet we small things insist our understanding,
Give names to rocks and fallen heroes
As though any of them will last.
If I am here,
You by extension are somewhere else.
The distances between us
Vary with changes in the weather on Saturn.
Here, give this new wine a try –
The intoxications of your life
Persist nowhere else.
Stop speaking with certainty of destinations -
Delight at the light pouring through your glass.