Chronic Chronology

Whisper eerie words laggard through the weary wind.
Send me a note in the fog as I call out smothered thoughts.
Open up a tombstone for the day of my birth
And shimmer me sideways, for the knots of the
Past and the present remain as mumbling in my brain,
Unknowing of any beginning, nor end.

Shout not in my ear as you speak out in such impatience.
Then let me roar to you my daily doings and spare you
No time to listen to distant ocean waves
Or singing birds in the morning dew as the trees sway immortal.

They’ll be no time for chronology. The air is wet against my neck
And I think I just heard a clock grumble like lightening.
Hail stones mock my attempts in speech.
I refrain to a being, but for being a being,
Forever distorted and drenched.

Not for beginning, nor end.

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