Innocence has returned briefly
To gather his loose ends
And then off to the next
Perhaps whereupon his subsequent return
He may find that the borders
Have been compressed and smoothed out,
But still glistening under scarcely-palpable
Zephyrs and perpetually unraveling
Seams of disconnected light.
That will be the day when
The rivers drown themselves in forgetfulness
While the poppy fields look on
In amusement, shame,
Or a mixture of both.
Art: “Edge of a Wheatfield with Poppies”
Vincent van Gogh