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It’s Only Time, Part 1

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One


Time was that time was only moments trickling into minutes pouring into hours rushing into days exploding into years but now that time has lost all meaning will the second hand begin revolving through the perihedral orbit of the wrist that strokes my hair and whispers half-remembered visions from beyond the last horizon of the soundless empty void beyond the last remembrance of the light of day when time has lost all meaning when the crystal line reflects the whisper of the slender silver sliver of the moonbeams chasing breakers over time and time is never ending never time to hear the meaning in the twisted elocution of the rhythm and the rhyme when time is not in time is only harmony in chaos when the time is set in motion never ending time ending never time.


He looked back at the words with blank emotions running hot against her moist inferno his hand unwilling to pretend not to pretend and then to understand as if his eyes were never eyes at all but mere kaleidoscopic lenses reflecting nothing but the shadows of his soul without a form of substance still she stood there waiting for the moment he would leave his sacred vision of the emptiness of time was only time and only time was when it yet must be.


Without the form the substance of infinity was lost to endless time and dissertations of remembrances of time and only time and only time was left to conquer all that was not but is now and will not be again until the fullness of infinity is emptied and the world in time begins anew in time with time to share and time to grow and time to kill and time to hate and time is never time at all and only time will tell what time will never tell if time is ever gained or lost or earned or borrowed from the moments trickling into minutes pouring into hours rushing into days exploding into years when time has lost all meaning will the second hand begin revolving through the perihedral orbit of the convoluted texture of the universe unfolding into tears within the walls of blank humanity within the nothingness which has not and will never be time and never will be time and never will become the slender silver sliver of the echo of the moonbeams chasing nothing from the form of nothing real but time and distant dark delusions of reality.


He looked back at the words that occupied the page that once had held the white perfection of unbeing and time had claimed another witness to the time is merely time and cannot be detected until time has lapsed beyond the grasp of timeless bags of mostly water hoping vainly beyond hope to capture time in time but time is not at all but all that was is time and in time will be time again.

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