If indeed I died a man troubled death come to me brusque as hale today I moan they cry tomorrow I cry day after smile they’re gone.
Or instead I lived unto demise foreseen by all but me of fears nestled in tomorrow and the years to come am I better now than the day before
Athwart we move traversing through this continuum of spaces and time excluding matter or does it cease to?
Following, failing, falling, perishing resurrecting, rinsing, repeating the cycle like tide periodic harmonic and simple
Given what is sought as ideas germinate from deep within over spectacles exceptional expiring constantly like zygote per chance
Atop the crag of greed I’m perched patronizing till the sight converges to a dot of vision impaired clouded not by orographic stratocumulus
During times of war and wars of time the wager plummets ebbing more and flowing less
But the picture is now visible binocularly through the periphery like a mirage of clarity to what avail it’s time to go
At what cost was it acquired procured so sedulously and what then became eventually did we not all die the hale and the snowflake end up in a puddle holding hands akin to bonds of hydrogen