Driven on, and driving, through things still growing,
I reflect on the shortness of what it is to be me,
An illusory span of meness, contracting, shrinking – inches becoming centimetres becoming millimetres becoming nothingtres
as the concept of me is consumed by
the foliage that carries on growing, bending – homing
on the reality of being that is nothing so concrete as can be measured with a ruler, defined by a pencil outline of what is or was, or even captured in its briefness as image on film or photo.
Here now, then eaten.
Copyright of text & image owned by Jay Cool, August 2020