I can’t be the only one

watching  days

like stones skipping

reaching but not aware of any shore.

Pressing naked bodies against

distraction…….

Afraid of never feeling

the way we desire to feel love.

I’m not the only one who doesn’t care about their job

Slowly losing sight with nothing to hold on to.

No sinking leading

No lost self trying to be found

No distant solar system calling

November’s long shadows

mingle with leaves

no rumbling under ground.

Only

This

What has always been.

Returning hunger

Need for silence

Dirt beneath finger nails

Skin pressed against skin

Night skies.

Mornings.

Empty

Lungs.

Horizon.

It’s all dirt.

Cosmic

sacred

mundane

earth.