recognizing the motions
as such
while you're going
through them, instead
of only after—
to become, after death,
less a ghost
than a photon
that has no past
no future,
no friction—
and for whom
the notion of transport
from point to point is trivial.
It is pointless
to establish a motive
or inaction;
before you walk
through its
unbounded door,
the future is a repeating
remainder
called nowhere,
and as soon as you
leave here, you'll
already be there.
