trains

(an old poem comprising two trains of thought.  the statements of each line are carried on by the line two lines below it.  there may seem to be some overlap possible depending on interpretation, which i had intended.)



That’s where it came from, friend,
     I’m ending.
The hole from whence Idea sprang.
     In a moment I will dig again.
Its form, as I recall,
     This earth is falling elsewhere now.
Had its birth in living
     Vs. not living.
Industrious boredom was its womb.
     In every moment lies a tomb.
A verse was its first last breath,
     For moving on is like death.
But in following footsteps on the path,
     You may still take some pieces with.