There is no speed
There is only fast
Here in this Empty
Nothing passing by
To delineate movement
No stars
No dust
Bent-time left behind
Only dwindling Self
Only Not Yet
In a hurry

There is no time
There is only when
Here on this Maybe
Passing by Nothing
A calcified moment
One star
One wish
True Self swept aside
With the mingle
Not quite there
In a hurry

There is no point
There is only why
There on that hollow
No one reaching out
To slow this progression
No hand
No You
Just Past catching up
Laughing with Fast
No speed at all
In a hurry