Oh yes, done is done.
Written, however.
If it was written,
it just is.
That's the problem
with words:
they blurred
when we made
them and bade
us fade thought
into a background
whose music no
one plays and whose
tasks may make days,
while never suggesting
something really made.
So, writer, your words
are mist, breathed by
accident on a fog-horn
morning, and in back
dropping, your efforts
cannot be rewarded
unless they bring the
stage into focus in a
way not seen before.
Unlike dug ditches,
a clean floor, or
the feeding of
other people
food.
Roman Ryan 