Thursday, December 24, 2015

Accretion, a poem


Not one of us is ever
complete. Add more. Add
another piece and measure
against infinity.

I grow, accreting all
this debris of life.
In time I could become
planets, stars unnumbered,

a universe and still
fall short. No matter. Time
has not the length to make
me whole and at the end

each piece will fall away.

Stephen Brooke ©2015

Probably best at this length. More would only become redundant. None of my spell checkers like 'accreting' but it's in my paper and ink dictionary. That still comes in handy!

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