I don't want to grope writhed bones
for time doesn't look back at burnt cities
for time doesn't wait for healing to perch on a wound before it moves—letting go
it just moves
not engrossed in the fingerprints of a nightmare.
I don't want a rebound—
to fall into staggering limbs
fall into a vessel the hair piggybacks greyness
I don't want to age,
like the time—grows aloud,
yet ages not.
I want to live on
so when He folds everything here
and the eternity some tongues preach emerges;
I will still live.
Because even in a space of eternity;
time walks & works
for eternity is a unit of time.
Pixabay.com
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