The Emptiness of Human Being
Not long, but it isn't anyway
determined by the interval: we mourn,
maybe, the brevities, as much as to say
form were the enemy--the length of form--
to hide from ourselves, of course from ourselves,--who else?--
that emptiness of content length couldn't fill
no matter how long it might be--forever if it were.
No excuses: evasions are what we try:
form as adversary or, failing form,
other divisions, assertions by negatives.
We are not this, not that.
The determined self makes be by partialness,
sets out his space, says here is truth,
is his, says less is all, defends, fades.