just for a second

the mind machine
is indifferent
to the play of
the physical.
it matters not
that the Earth
rumbles
with war cries.

a tiny leaf
lay prone.

what we were once
is never so certain,
never so firm
that it cannot be
taken away
through forgetfulness.

what we become
is a matter of purpose.

we let go of
the tiny nothings
that tie us down
in order to become
what we must.

dreams fall away
              effortlessly.

no child
ever said,
"I want to be
     a slave to
  a system
that wants to
      destroy me
for gain."

     there is a breath,
     and another.
     a sigh,
     then another.
     a love,
     and then it's over.
     for every death
     is dire intention,
     dragging the last of you
     away
     until all that remains
     is the very thing
     you fear the most.

and suddenly you
are no longer who
you once were. you
have been replaced with
a modern facsimile of that
which you thought you would
become.

all the dreams
                wash away.

there's nothing more
to hold firm.
just a small frown
where a smile once
emerged, and
nothing more.

a tiny leaf
lay prone
in a puddle
of water,
clear as
the light
of the morning
sun,
above a ripple
like time
standing still
if only
for a second.

and the end
stumbles upon us
so slowly
that it quickens
the pulse
as the blade
dips further
and falls
as a razor
across the neck
of our own undoing.

so dreams
         are wished away,
                   and nothing more.

a tiny leaf
lay prone.