I NOW KNOW

QUIET LIGHTNING

I step outside and see the lightning.

It is dry and there is no formal resound
of thunder only a pulse of light

dancing with itself among the molecules
of this steamy atmosphere where rain once fell.

There is no more awe of air
or all that happens above my pay grade
only the grave sight resignation

that much beyond my porch
is far from my control.

I have walked among both

the rain drops and the tombstones
I am touched not by either;

they have become oddities to me. 

Water, undrinkable, comes from above,
eroding the stone reminders

of a person once living

now decaying ‘neath the marker,

‘cept by etching, unremembered.

Such is my own plan,

to be undrinkable

to be unremembered.
My own nothingness will be

a solace in my soulless being.

The lightening glows for a moment
then disappears
I do like the way of quiet lightening.

© M Durfee

7/28/16