The Still Point

"Except for the point, the still point,
There would be no dance, and there is only the dance."
T.S. Eliot

Fireflies light up
the roof confused by
a moon that is
more or
less full. I am
irrefutably
alone while
waiting for
someone
who is stuck at
an airport.
The tiny bird
next door is
hoarse from
chirping in
an empty house.
Everything exists for conflict
even the dumb trail of
dust that climbs
the stairs
duped into
believing the dance
survives all,
even us.


jayne lyn stahl
january 1, 2009