Continuance

The roof is quiet with non-human life.
It continues to pass forward among forward dimensions,
crossing nearly invisible panes.

I do not observe, but
am observed.

The stillness watched the stillness. Some
good

It was.

White and eerie sand dunes
heap

In my mind’s vision. Where are their plans?
What algorithms lead to their logic?

What choreographer compiled this map
of movement reminders?

The pyramids are there. Slaves on the Yangzte.
A baby cries in the portico of Greece. The rest are silent as
ceramic.

A flock of birds assembles in the blue horn of sky
completing the white triangle.

An afterthought of immense measure, I am,
bursts

almost invisibly fast at that moment,

And a population stands before me like mastodons
awaiting thaw.