Haiku are, at least for me, the means by which progress can be measured.
Things are looking pretty good right now.
Last Gasp
Perhaps the point reached;
old degrading: allow peace
space within your heart.
Ignore constant beat
marching time: this future hewn
with past’s storm-felled boughs.
A fatal, last gasp
Summer’s passing: arrivals
falling into place.
Decomposing fault,
brittle crackle: time to wait
for Spring’s renewal.
All soon forgotten,
season’s change: redefining
our shared existence.
The Internet of Words 