Killing Time

And the wind cried “Murderer!” In a long, slow steady hiss. I said “Yes, yes. I confess!” And the wind howled in anger.

“Fool!” it bellowed and raged, “You are little, like the dust That I have blown for ages Puny rock that once was stone. Grains of sand in my hands, And you, my friend, are But the slightest handful to me.”

“Yes,” I said “that I can see. I know the wind could shatter me. And all I write will never be Anything more than atoms and dust When the whole world swallows us. Leaving absolutely nothing behind For absolutely no one to find To show that here existed a mind That dreamed something dear and fair. But, as long as the dream is mine I have not the care for time And you, my friend, are nothing but air!”

Writing by John Goff, staff