Compos Mentis

Can you sync with the air,
With the planet’s breathing
As apart from human rhythms?

Peel apart completely
From the pulse of the news.
Keep from living too long

Within the violence
The era promises.
Die peacefully in bed.

The glow of the sun goes.
The evening will not spare
Quietists from vengeance,

No more than activists
Or anyone else caught
Between inhalation

And coughing helplessly.
But nor will the evening,
As an evening, attempt

To harm you. You watch night
Arrive. The old human
Hearth occupation—watch

And listen to the night
For whatever’s out there.
Watch the night. Be the night.

You can sync with the air.
Live your last without fear—
It’s not next. Next there’s here.