And sometimes, there is nothing more to say
about the mist, the puddles,
than that existence is a very great and very terrible burden
-made no less terrible
by the greed and responsibility of knowledge.
And some days, weigh on you like stones
like quarters move around the world, quickly
palm to palm
-and gravity weighs even more.
But sometimes, if you move fast enough
make pretty enough stories
reality itself can be enthralled through the night
it can forget you are under its domain
you may outrun the day itself.