Brad Bostian

When time was an insect
I watched the bright butterfly play-thing.

When it became a tortoise
I ambled after in the tall grass.

When time took on a red brick character
I became a beagle, curious, purposeful,
Jogging my nose along the ground.

When responsibility folded me like origami,
I constructed my days according to blueprints.

My life, just as I knew it was mine,
Lifted me, hurling toward any horizon.

The moment it left me,
I stoned from the sky
And gave my life
To the nameless beast
That never stops hunting.


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