---

What is life?
A slow gathering cloud
that fills with grief
that small speck on the horizon of youth.

What is life?
That swelling of the lid
the swill of salt and saliva slid
that spills its glutinous weight from lip.

What is life?
That gathered clouds churning
the light out
and darkness in.

We are babies on the open field
and Fate that Thing we call by Name
the Gods or Fortune, Virtue, Vice
or Blame.

Fear the open field
that cloud in the distant sky,
and tears that tippled over and slid
down your face.

---