American Yak

A middle-aged man thinks of death.

Each telling, romantic at the ford,
Slips on to some foreboding end,
Out past the trimmed fields,
Past its decay and demise.

Fortune, once his travel mate,
Has left for other companionship,
Through the western gate, beyond
The eastern wall.

These are new thoughts, unfamiliar.
Broken against the still white on
Grim white. Out past the rivers of
Snow and plains of rushing earth.

He came into life, thrust from the
Royal abode of stars and dust,
Radiating from the commanding
Throne of all life –

The wanderer considers his,

Now an epic, like those of ruined
Pasts, once glorious cities, whose
Wildernesses are imaginations
For ogling foreign tourist.

His habitations, caves, dwelling
Holes. The strangers, cousins,
Familiar, and not so. One journey
Beyond another.

The pensive admiration of
Eternity, and other ruminations.
Colloquial expressions for easy
Understanding.

Song.
Significant ones and expressions to.
Unimaginable moments, aesthetics,
the gifts both given and received.

A lone man stops at the passing.

Mystified, reaching, grasping
For something intelligible, an
Absolute where a sudden epitaph
Flashes, almost indecipherable.

Yet here all will lie, on all accounts,
Covered by loving earth’s waves,
Where a man is benefited, by
All these who have charted the way.