It's funny, this life

It's funny, this life
Interests run in cycles
Morning sun, evening stars
A world in a raindrop
A world in one word

Weariness and pain
Clash with the impulse to produce
Weariness wins in the end
Should we not savor this minute, this sensation, this space,
While sensations and spaces can yet be savoured?

Angst, and awe
The tearing up of old calendars
Old phonebooks, old greeting cards
Only the weary mind, the mind deprived of sleep,
Can see unhindered by thought