The Inevitable Write... Poem by RIC BASTASA

you who know
this sickness (unto death)
write

it is a tree without fruits
a sea without fish
a lake without a boat
a stone without moss

it is a bird without wings
a chicken without feet
a sky without clouds
a house without windows

you know this sickness
unto death
you watch every step
you hear every sound
weeping willows
sighing trees
transient fog
sentient stars

you keep on writing
without a reader
an empty chair is here
and you do not sit

you watch, you keep on writing
you are aware
of this journey
you are an atom a dust
in the galaxy.