Emily Dickinson Poem

Crumbling is not an instant’s Act

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Crumbling is not an instant’s Act

A fundamental pause

Dilapidation’s processes

Are organized Decays.

 

‘Tis first a Cobweb on the Soul

A Cuticle of Dust

A Borer in the Axis

An Elemental Rust—

 

Ruin is formal—Devil’s work

Consecutive and slow—

Fail in an instant, no man did

Slipping—is Crash’s law.

Dare you see a Soul at the White Heat?
Crisis is a Hair

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