Thousands of minutes and hours,
deeds and words,
specifications,
delusions,
mistakes
without end,
longing,
flesh —
it takes so much
to create
a single person —
that he be,
that he survives,
that he feels a hand on his shoulder,
that others say to him ‘It is you.’
And it is so easy for him
not to be,
not to be this person,
to be done,
to be gone.
Or for a place that was a home
to no longer be the home
that it was.
It takes so little
for a home to cease,
to crumble,
to return to dust,
and for a land that was a place
no longer to be the place
that it was,
for a home to fail in it
and for a person to return
to its dust.
So little is required for a place
once again to not be a home.
So little is required
to not be.
The desire must be so strong,
so strong the desire to live,
so as to come back,
so as to come back to being.