To Reach Through Glass ‘N Time
The pane that stands between millennia.
A gradual, rolling rumble from few spots on the horizon brings a chorus for the dawn to sail its orange sunlight o’er.
The breeze feels like an echo of a cold too cold to bear, as the gull glides on its currents and the waves of winter light.
Am I ever writing this? You were always reading this. The stars knew they were burning…
Momentum felt as sep’rate moments: such is time.
Even as (ephemeral) the winter’s apogee takes Easter on and, late, chase they the heels of Autumn.
Time-warped scraps – the dream continues on,
unphased by the approaching of its limits.