Penultimate
So I did a thing
for an entire year.
I noted the world
and felt my place
within it.
First person, observer.
A thumbtack lifted
and placed each day
on a map, or
a sieve
passed through
an ocean.
And I saw all
the colors I saw.
And I touched
all the rough
surfaces I touched.
And I tasted food
and blood and
kisses.
I filtered it all
through my lungs,
my skin, and then,
out through my pen.
And to what end?
Except to say
I did this work and
didn't let so much
slip away unseen.
I learned that life
is what it seems
to be: little and
long and worthy
of the time and
sacrifices,
deserving of all
the small daily
temples we build
to love, to fear,
to what we can't see.
So I am grateful to
have stood my watch.
I am better for it.
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