I attempt resuscitation
Each day from this drifting dream
Of impending apocalypse.
Or has the flood already covered us?
The wave surges with weighty force
Beyond my strength to move forward against the tide.
Am I standing still, still standing, or rolling
amidst the normal chaos that envelopes all of my activities?
How do I know the difference?
I must plant my sword in the earth, hold steady
and get my head out of the current
maybe find a landmark or two for bearings.
Maybe some other faces clearing
The waterline, swords planted like plow shares
against the constant stream of getting things done.