When I am furious with Change, I berate it;
“I am tired of your unrelenting beatings,
tired of your latency, then rapidity,
tired of your inconsistency, no warnings.”
I demean Change until I am convinced
it is whittled into nothing but nonsense.
Nothing but melted sounds and gibberish.
I degrade Change until it is meager,
beatable, and broken like a famished
dog’s ribs. Change becomes a dog's unlocked jaws.
I can try to compress Change into an age,
I can try to constrict Change into an ache,
but I cannot conceive Change into content.
When I am with Change, I can never be content.