Inevitability on the edge of reality.
Somewhere at the intersection of duality.
It was the year that leaped over
a nest of cuckoo’s.
Tic Tok goes the clock.
The journey is non-stop.
Time is the loop.
The speed of light is the duration
relative to universal expectation.
Days become a time lapse of the Picasso.
Nights become a blink of an eye.
Glimpse into the unthinkable
as a rubber band of expansion retracts.
On the outskirts of dimension
the way is continuously milky
dipping into the hour of zero.
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This poem was inspired by time relative to age. When I was younger I thought the days would never end. The nights would last forever. The older I get the shorter the season. Days feel as automated as a breathe of air. The nights vanish into sunrise.