Running (a noumenal poem)

Running I have not gone away although the autumn leaves hear no whisper and no woodland trail bears any mark and on the surface no ripples disturb lake or pond in the quiet empty park no sign is found in the city streets at night there is no sound although the whirl of starlings takes no real pattern and the surface of the sea is cold and calm though the chimneys breathe no smoke though the mines are shut there is no precious metal despite the shifting plates and the melting caps there is no sign of slowing the system down though I being born on the shortest day face the longest dawn although I be dead and gone and the ghost be forever wholly banished though all the merry rivers run dry and the ancient hills give way I hold the whole world in my hand and I haven't gone away http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/shane_crees