That’s right, you’re absolutely right, I’m not doing
Anything you might think important, I’m just here,
In this space, breathing lightly, touching the keys
Lightly, feeling light in the world, actually not
The world as I can’t see past the walls of this
Little studio where I make worlds unlike the world
Out there, and of course you know what’s out 
There, don’t you, but I’m not sure I care too much
More about what’s out there, as finding what’s
Here, or actually, up there, is something far more
Settling than settling into what actually is, isn’t it?
So it’s been like this for some time, and as the days
Seem even longer, and lines across the skin seem
Deeper, I wonder what was so important long 
Ago that made me think doing something, anything
Was more important than doing something that
Amounted to nothing, but as a matter of fact, if
There is even an iota of a fact left around here, 
As a matter of fact, I sense I’m moving closer
To not only not doing anything, but even a bit
More frightful, becoming less and less, lighter
And lighter, less of what I was, a bit emptier,
A bit more of what I’ve not yet found but that’s
About all that’s left, isn’t it, rummaging around
For something else to do when thinking just
Yesterday isn’t everything already almost done 
And all that’s left is what we haven’t even 
Seen hurling at us at light speed, that we’ll 
Be knocked down by such a fierce wind, but
Only if we wait a million or so light years
To come sweep us up, or by, or under, as
Someone just said, wait, wait, there’s some
More we can do but maybe now it’s not
As much fun as it used to be, when what
Was was more something than anything now.