I am there
but time is standing still
though the river rushes past
to remind me of the grave grip of gravity,
the rolling of this tiny rock
and the necessary fiction of minutes

no wound clock woes me
no hunger torments me
no trail awaits my feet

I am there
with my line to the depths I know hold treasures
blocked from my deluded eyes
by reflections of blue-gray skies

a simple tug on my wrist
pulls me farther from the burdened banks
to which I must ultimately return
but not for an eternal while
while my line is taut
and the curse of time is not
menacingly marching
in this dreamy flow