Do not cling to hard labors

I touched it, in the quiet when I made
myself, for 3 continuous seconds, focus
on what has been so good.

It’s got me now. Like the tar baby.
The more I pull back from this great
pulsation behind things, it follows
into my world, into me.

Like something inexorable, like a mother,
applying oils to the child after the difficult day,
saying, “is this all right” as it moves
closer, meaning,
Do not cling to the hard labors,
they were only to get you into this world,
not shape it, not define your role.

Breateh cinnamon and anise and the sunset
breath of the mountain.

The day is long behind you.

Other things, entirely, await you now.

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