Morning Meditation

Life makes no sound as it slides along,
A conveyor belt to eternity
Or oblivion.
No stepping sideways or stepping back.
Days like dry grains in an hourglass
Slip from white-knuckled fists.
I’ve left blood on all the doors
That have closed quietly before me.
Beauty, vitality, opportunity, strength;
Moments pass unnoticed.
Where are the bruises, broken teeth and cracked ribs
Of all my battles?
Memories now, the fighter grows soft.
And if life was such a fight,
Why do I sit here in a chair where I’ve
Had my coffee for fifteen years
Listening to the predawn silence
And ticking clock?
Each day a blank page,
At day’s end a scribbled line or two.
What is this? What is this…?
Breath dies in a sigh.


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