The Way Things Change Will Change

But slowly, rarely very
Noticeably, and meanwhile

Continuity in change
Will be destructive because

Change in the same direction,
Siftings on siftings, only

Produces monotony
On its way to erasure,

Long road to oblivion.
The common fate of all things

Rare or common, will rarely
End like Pound’s rose in amber,

Red overwrought with orange,
Death without extinction, death

As ludicrous overkill.
Most dust dully goes to dust,

And treasures shed from the air
Sink in the dirt everywhere.

This earth, full of faults, then shifts
All this. Until then, we drift.

Beauty is itself a word,
A name with a span, a term,

Mortal as me, brief as you.
Change will take out beauty, too,

But slowly, for the most part.
Things are mostly picked apart.

So go, scatter lovelorn verse.
Just don’t hope it lifts from earth.