A Speak

Laying on my black sofa, I notice

a speck peaking, from the yellow stained wall,

near the rotunda of bay windows,

Contrasting with the white curtains draping,

I am fixed upon this fragment that breaks

the mundane, semi-white finished sheetrock.

-

Where did you come from is the question I

propose to the new arrival's placement.

Why here? Why now, and by what means did you

Spring yourself into this current placement?

Did I scrape the wall? Had I thrown something?

What actions brought about this current state?

-

Actions, those are funny things, often driving

our current course, winding this way and that,

before even realizing things have changed.

What we knew moments ago, already

is different than what came before in time,

and who can change anything, and why would

-

They choose to do so if the future is

unpredictable, ever-shifting, and

truly remarkable in its dancing.

Can we know anything? Is our fate sealed

like a speck peaking, silently, without

care for the morrow? Just living in time?