An eternal halt

An eternal halt                                                                                 
 
I’m watching the world go by
not from a solid hillock above it
 
but from a cart in the middle of a field
pulled in random circles by a blind mule.
 
I picture everything as standing still,
like that oak tree providing a moving shade
 
as the day progresses but everything is adrift
as if I were on the ocean’s surface,
 
the detritus of my karmic life
floating into my reach and out again
 
as I shift with the current like shade with the sun,
the route of the planet, the cart and the roving mule.
 
O child of God, the aching desire
of humanity is to come to an eternal halt.