NO REMEDY

There's always dirt on the floor.
I sweep it up and throw it out,
And when I blink my eye
It seeps back in -
Or so it seems -
and there it lies,
just as it did before.

There's always dirt on the floor.
I cannot keep it out.
I built four walls with iron doors
And windows sealed quite shut.

The air I breathed was purified -
Triple filtered, I believe -
yet still the dirt was on the floor,
And I was mystified.

I broke the walls and smashed the doors and flung the windows wide.

It didn't seep in from outside.

It comes, I know, from me.