Wobegone Days

There’s this and then there’s that,

And then there’s this again.

The addition doesn’t add up.

Pages don’t make a book.

Breaths are just air flowing across the universe.

Grasp at nothing,

And still cross the finish line.

Sit before an empty pot,

And still light the fire.

Walk the beach,

And watch the footprints behind you,

Wash away.

Grains of sand were not assigned to stay.

There is no expression,

On the face of the sleeper,

But the land never forgets

The names of the souls.