Wednesday, December 28, 2011

Time (past)

This bores me to no end,
Such an Eternity of wasted Time, Billowing about me...
Caught in the Desert Storms, FatherTime has risen up,
The many Seconds,Minutes,Hours; They have struggled to Dissapate, it seems,
Stretching out their long Tendrils,
Stretching out to me,To hold on, to Slow down further,
My ground is no more stable than it,
So us both come Tumbling about in this mass storm of Age old Centuries,
Swallowed by the many memories of Forgotten Eras, and the Revolutions to forsee,
We have become used to It,
and It to Us,
A wonderous Aspect of our Mere Being,
Yet unattainable,
For Father Knows whether our full Grasp Upon it Will bring forth Destruction,
or New Foundations, if we will do more Harm than Good,
But, Untill the tiny seams of fragile Time, Break open with Blinding light,
We will forever be in the Storm of his Will,
Being and Seeing Time as it Envelopes us in its Hopeless Continuity and its Constants,
Like She, like He and Like We, Shall be Like Thee,
Blindly Lost in this Terrible Fate,

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