Testo Broom Of Wind

Sweeping with an old broom
Whose straw keeps chunking off
For me to sweep up

When my life is worn to a nub
I too will be swept up
Eventually
By the same thing I once came from
I too am a chunk broken off
From the broom of wind

But for now I pass across the land
Like everyone, a piece of wind
A little confluence
Only the occurrence of a person