We sometimes seem to stay in stasis
- Where
Our advance or retreat is naked to the well-dressed eye.
Today’s ennui is indistinguishable from
Yesterday’s fog.
This trench warfare of the spirit
- Like
The real deal – puts us face-to-face with the already dead.
Our war of attrition malingers here
In empty pockets.
The mercy of inertia isn’t lost
- On
Fretful fingers worrying the beads of those most devout
And closely linked in faith with physics –
For the path to Valhalla is overgrown
With ground cover.