Over and over
again—to your own
darkly folded-
up and
stiff self
you'll try muttering
something
a little snappier
like—time is so huge!
and so
vast! and
so giant—and you'll
eventually feel
the fine province
of your own
mentality expanding—
like you could spread
your hardening
hands wide
and grab hold of
bold lots of it!—suddenly;
without ever even
coming close
to exhausting a stitch of it.
Only—by the late afternoon
on which any
of that happens
you may come
to be bent
by just such a gracious
and soft realization—
that you don't really have
to keep reaching
for the
inexhaustible,
let alone continue
to wear
such a stiflingly
unlimited—
crown of it anymore.
