1/10/2021 (Elliot XIX)

Elliot

Canto XIX

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“Are you still there?”

“Of course I am.”

“Okay, good

I just can’t feel my hand.”

“I’m sorry,” I say

I loosen my grip

While holding on still

The effort of existing

Is testing my will

Here there is nothing

Here I am nothing

Or I would be

If I weren’t with

Such fine company

Sometimes points of reference

Are all that you need

A hand in my hand

Ground under my feet

And somewhere a drum

Continues to beat

If we’re making progress

There’s no way to tell

For one with their senses

This surely is hell