Cattle in pasture
show me my end.
Here, a breeze
with natural sounds
of atoms’ creation.
I am them,
and they are me.
Not enough to know
the fee of living.
The day prior, a liar
granted me some knowledge:
“Master deceiver, I am.
My hugs prevail
through your day.
But I can’t say
I feel the same.
I have borne dramas,
eye to eye—innocuous.
I dawdle while thinking;
you can’t see the obvious.”
Cattle in pasture
don’t have an answer.
Loss from a dagger
staggered the matter.