In Ruin

A wall
that used to warm your back
and touch my fingers
now has been demolished
before I came and rescued it.
Suddenly, the memory of us
that lived in the wall
has been devastated into
an immobility of solitude,
transfiguring into
an organic being of equanimity,
staying immobility,
abiding perpetually,
at the origin of remoteness
in the ruin and decay;
in wait,
with its patience and generosity
for another coming phenomena of us,
and will once again,
deploy,
immense us, with its
dustiness,
vastness, and
restlessness.