my Time

I sit here, on the cusp of everything,

my feet dangling into what happens next.

Toes trace ripples in the fabric of reality and

distort the face of my future staring back.

Time is a lake, an ocean or sea,

a body of water that can be dipped into but never taken from.

The sands of time litter the beach

and stick, just like their regular kin, in everything they aren’t supposed to:

a shake of my head sends specks of this sand back into the water,

a soft song in their splashings.

A thought, a smile, and my clothes soon lie in a heap,

my body gliding through the currents of the water;

sailing through the ebb of time.

The End

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