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Too many ages ago the earth stopped
moving for a day
and shards of time in the stones
began pointing North instead of South.

I am a rock, too—
pointing and never faltering
but maybe soon
when time stops again for a moment and shifts
everything
will twist like a compass suddenly spinning
south;
I will stop and move in a new direction
because everything static is hopeless.
Crossing Tower Bridge
I time travel, past many
Thames borne broken hearts

— The End —