The Clock is Ticking

walking this beach, there is a

feeling of incompleteness,

restlessness, unfinished business;

paupers, waiting for the

axe to fall;

so much suffering,

so much dying,

does anyone deserve this?

like a side of beef, she leads

me to this place,

selling me to the highest bidder,

giving up without a fight,

no resistance, no struggle;

only shame;

there is a depth here,

untold symmetry,

flapping and unfurling

with the newborn sun,

words come easy,

light and free, no longer

encumbered by stones of inertia,

shooting through the limited

nighttime sky with a touch

of innocence;

there is a depth here;

this boiling sun is no

longer a home,

this raging sea provides

no relief, old bones

come home to roost,

the clock is ticking;

time is running out.

.

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