Time-Less
It is strange don't you think
how time can have different tempos
at the same time
while I try to preoccupy myself with something other than you
the time passes
you could say in it's usual way
but then during its usual momentum of passing
I think of you
and my preoccupation with something else
is broken
and suddenly time does not seem to have moved at all
hasn't moved from tick to tock
but hangs there in between
a pendulum frozen
a clocks second hand suddenly aching to reach it's next graduation
of purpose
a purpose for a clocks second hand existence
to measure a moment
All the time in the world
the sands run through an hourglass
grain by grain tumble toward
the infinite
the timelessness in the nethermost
of a wishing-well
on a single thought hangs itself perpetual
as if in a solitary breath
can count the creaking, groaning springs
unwinding
aching from tock to tick
the seconds split
and each graduation of its purpose
the second hand existence
while I try to preoccupy myself
with something other than you
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