Numbered...
Sand on a mandala
blown away, stasis
menaced by momentum,
chased by change,
as Troy's edges
singe already;
such frenzied whimsy
for the student
of surprise, still
ill-apprised
of the sanctity
of a sunrise,
especially when
each and every
sunset has long
ago been numbered...
Holden Moncrieff
Thu 13th Apr 2023 23:19
Thank you so much, John, for your wonderful comment, I'm truly glad you enjoyed the poem! 😎