Let the old fade into the young,

Allow what is done to be done.

To be done anew

Rouse the people, get them up

Although the illusion of time itself undo,

Smash the hourglass into a cup

Overflowing with the ashes of phoenix plumes;

Or wherever they’ve bound her feet at the ballot

Boxing all things in One corner of totality,

Granting the ostrich peace as l’éminence grise picks, at

Ease the latest spin on it, O the perennially

Unfinished yawp of karma that

The ouroboros swallows

Up, only to return what follows.

It furthers to consider that not

Even our sun can last, let alone this

Straw Dog of form. Once I cast my lot

In the oscillatory ether of what is

Continuing to do what I ought.