Countless Centuries Poem by James McLain
Countless Centuries
Out weighed by only standing time.
I have fled into some distant land.
Hot this land your fingers have,
I begot.
Memories you can never trade,
I forget.
Fire and ash I have come and gone.
Wind and foam,
and none are mine to you, all are.
Coming I am sand and I am dust.
How could one not but know of this?
Unless when time again, I it permits
Why must I wait, upon your turn again.
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5/5/2024 8:52:22 AM # 1.0.0.1119
