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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