3
09
2007
The Sadness of Things
The sadness of things is
like the toppled buddha,
visible in her falling,
through the open window.
In the empty house
clanging doors stir dust,
like a broken hourglass half full of sand
trapped in a shadowy box of iniquity.
Suddenly vivid in a world of lucid dreams,
things were shining in their absence,
like Dad,
the man who would live forever making people happy.
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