these days that run

these days
that run to
one another
as ingots
flow to
the mold
are they
for us
the sum total of
our ancestors
genes?

these days
that run into
one another
as the river
meets the sea
backing up
to an ebb
then flowing
out on moon’s
command,
are they for us?

these days
that run
to one another
leaving traces
imperceptible
as a wren
leaving a blade
of tall grass
are they
for us,
whose memory
makes so
much of where we’ve been?

these days
that run
toward
the other
with unending
finality
are they
blamelessly
for us?

these days
that run for
one another
steeped in
inception
& unseen
indelibility,
must be
for us..