Funny how concepts waver
Between the sublime,
And the tangible,
Between that we know
And that we are.

Distractions change,
Leaving little life for poetry.
One year a new fashion afflicts us.
(Fashion’s one distraction
Is the illusion of a change,
The promise of the new.)

Wavering concepts,
Interwoven with distractions
And these petty predilections,
Lead not from or towards
Broad understanding of the
Constancy of change,
But to a broad misunderstanding
That change brings about the
New.

There is nothing new.
Distractions change,
But remain distractions.
That from which we are distracted
Remains, unchanged.