The hour glass of time
flows ever so slowly
capturing the moment
in utter perfection
The eye does not once blink
to forget what it sees
No touch of another
moves the moon from its place
the wind ceases blowing
the past, present, future
frozen in existence
How long must this go on
just waiting to begin
Waiting, is blowing wind,
the blinking of an eye,
the sand to flow again,
captivities freedom,
all within one moment
breaking free from this spell
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