No Time, Like

I should be doing other things.
Responding to emails.
Birds on a wing.
Burgeoning. Glorious
Purpose. Common threads
Bind me like feet.

I'm only a sliver Chinese.
This is the only time to write.

I walk into darkness.
I feel meaning.
And, in the end, I will
Or won't
Look back on this one day
And not remember
The wall,
The poems,
The table,
The papers,
The pencils and pens
And headphones,
The screens,
The people
In their poses
For now
They are who they are
Now.

And I am still plugged in
The end.

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