We see him ageless now, but ancient,
with senility assumed,

because we skulk around
behind his back in alleged secrecy,

squirreling away these
f r a g m e n t s

assumed as something lost --

Finders keepers after all
and if you snooze you lose ...

Does he really never notice?

This coercing...

This cajoling...

This childish clamoring for more
While we curse this chaos
and call it's creation coincidence

refusing all responsibility for it's reality
or repair...

Somehow it feels just like forgiveness
when we've thieved only to waste, watching
all appreciation slip away in grains of sand,
within these missing moments fleeting
in a gift we'd rather steal, as
we're all stupider
than we've
in his
wisdom he
allows it -- leaving
minutes unattended -- in this
lesson carefully crafted, then ignored;
letting yet more fall, he entrusts delinquent
stewards with a whole new day we've surely
stolen, in all this careless waste of time.

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