As consciousness persuades the industrious toward
mercantile achievement, the mindful ponder
their sourceless unrest. Their morning starts
in beauty and beauty rubs their chests, rubs
our chests. A thought is carried from man
to daughter and from son to wife: dragged along
the temporal exchange, a thought is carried
that rubs our chests. She can now return
to the ruined site of what once was
her father's grandfather's short-lived life,
but the stones have moved apart, his enterprise
repealed, his reflections scattered, adrift and
unrevealed.
rdking