another rusted sunset —
and underneath this rolling
wheel churning
day into day
and season into season
when there’s nothing left to do
and nowhere left to run
and old familiar
escapes fall through
which no longer hold a reason
and faced with faded memories
unrolled frame by frame
from its reel
or how the prophet told
that all turns to dust in the end
or like chaff beneath the grinding
wheel or ash no longer fit
for flame and there’s no one
left to blame —
just let it come undone.
