In turn

I spent a week walking Tracing thoughts across the floor Marking time In measured pace I spent a day thinking Drifting off into fluffy clouds Carried by trade winds To the next island

No shore in sight

It had spikes That much I can remember Speared rosetips The oceanic defense Sometimes turning over Pressing against my ear I could listen in Quieting my breath Before going under

One for the ages

long after human plight is washed away by arrows' time by ways and means incomprehensible forces remain alive swallowing shiny pulsars by stringing them down to noodles using every gravitational force imaginable to contain the boundless vacuum for nowwe shutter against the solstice gathering our own against the changing times

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