Photograph by Jean Schugart-Schild I am here sitting alone at a kitchen table,
Prone to stay sipping, gulping down the invisible
Caffeinated seconds near a scented cranberry scone.
It almost feels like I am a glutton
Of worthwhile-ness, inhaling these moments
All by myself; The only existent thing -
Reposed as life hollows out my space
To the beneath that always percolates
In the known: We Die; Unknown: Where do we go?
But why steam off into someone else's Self
When I can think away for a few more silent ticks
Of my internal clock... Being in attendance
Between my original coming and final going.
Prone to stay sipping, gulping down the invisible
Caffeinated seconds near a scented cranberry scone.
It almost feels like I am a glutton
Of worthwhile-ness, inhaling these moments
All by myself; The only existent thing -
Reposed as life hollows out my space
To the beneath that always percolates
In the known: We Die; Unknown: Where do we go?
But why steam off into someone else's Self
When I can think away for a few more silent ticks
Of my internal clock... Being in attendance
Between my original coming and final going.
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