Inertia leads

to rust

to stagnation

fit only for parasites

and the foul stench of

rotten leaves

there are times when

we should run

shake the silt

from our creaky joints

and tear off into

that good night

as if we stole something

but

we do not

and the apathy grows

like vines

wrapped around our

branches

rooted in a lifeless grove

where birds no longer

hold congress

where wind no longer

holds sway

we know better than this

though, we tell ourselves

alongside the other

sand-caked sarcophagi

that once were kings

and queens of potential

the lords and ladies of

little-to-nothing

but we were free nonetheless

to do as we will but now wilt

as the frost encroaches swiftly

in cracked moccasins

but we knew!

we knew that

to be still in this time stream

meant drowning

that never moving ahead

meant never moving again

that  rust only damages

tin men

that dust only settles on

the lifeless

that the flame only burns

if you linger

we knew…

…and yet…

here we are

still

2009