so much life not enough time the lines in the sand may as well be walls The threads of the universe twine and twine they are red, If you must know. The piles of doing grow larger with time If this was known how many people would never choose to take their first breaths? time is passing before my eyes you would think it would be more shy and less fickle the press of consistency how dare that be the way to forever oh, but it isn’t. there is no way to there. there are brushes. they sweep up the stars and spread the shine of sight the rustles of leaves of trees, of books the sound of life in death of wood I wonder how many people wish to be me and how many speak when my back turns oh, forever, if only /that/ were at my fingertips instead of the world
