Existence regards you
but as a haddock
on the slippery tabletop
of a fishmonger
in the market place

It dawns on you
as it happens,
as you are separated
from world and self
and life proves just a reminder
of death

This is the indifference
that terrifies;
existence's and Cosmos's
indifference,
empty and total
as the wanderer's relation
to the mycelium
deep neath the moss