Stuck in amber and wrapped in time
limitless options boil down to none
look for the dreams when the clock winds
what could be when all is spent
energy depleted to feed a soul
a living death is the reward
world still spins on shared axis
part of the whole spins away
this crass illusion of the less and more
grasps at aspects out of reach
decline the invite at the door
at the risk of dancing last on the stage
a mask is left that sees all
the deserted homestead feels incomplete
while cold rooms whisper more
now that time has found a face.
© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved.20181113.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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