Driving Through Foliage

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

in

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