Cogs Of Matter Poem by shimon weinroth
Cogs Of Matter
I always try to be on time
in fact, I come too early
but nothing is lost
I communicate with the material
find them benign and casual
they have their own memory
which I can not tap into
my presence a passing phase
in their more stable existence
not their being, they have no being
only memory of form,
are here to serve
to stand and wait
so too I, in this scheme, of things
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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9/19/2024 7:13:42 AM # 1.0.0.1119
