Sublimation

The master of all absurdities wrote,
None comes, none goes, nothing happens,
Truer of this slow-moving life,
Than of anything else heard or seen.

The hourglass looks still apparently,
Though time moves in steady moves,
And will erase, rewrite, edit whatever was
Written with much pleasure and much pain.

Now the time has come to smile and part,
A farewell that tastes of victory and tears,
Victory that never came when dying of thirst,
A stream of delight for the tired warrior.

For there is no going back in any form,
The absurd heart knows too well,
That some solids shed no tears
Those who only sublimate.