Time is mere dreams, that rewind and loop consistently

Like waves to a beach, endless it becomes

It is a tool we use, to make sense of this chaos

This space we call life, in all its whims and terrors

We progress to a future always unsure, never knowing if the past is really past

Like a stone in focus, sitting on the edge of a riverbank

The water goes on, and yet you seem to stay

As if time has left you, out of the stream of linear dreams

So you dream those looping dreams, for it must be the way we are

Maybe this is the desire, to not have those dreams any more

Or if they were ever dreams, just sins that became something real