Drifting

Drifting through the weeks like a burnt leaf in October

Light, tired, unnoticed.

From one day to the next, from night,

to day, to night again.

A solid foundation is what I want,

what I need, what I wait for.

From the roots to the trunk to the end of each branch

I am meant to be attached.

Physically here, but mentally elsewhere

always drifting between here and there,

there and here, near and far,

wishing time could stand still.

If I open my eyes to see, I believe

the dust will settle and the noise will end.

Yet keeping them closed helps

cradle the feeling that none of this is real.

Can you be running while standing still?

Motionless, yet lost in the maze of

past, present, future, time.

Time is all we do and do not have.

I stay drifting.