Of time, to meditate upon, will not be the meditation
begun with.
Time thought to itself: I shall be short and concise,
long and imprecise, and in the middle you are...
presently.
To trickle less into more--more into less...for what
wanes documents scarcity.
Drinks the bitter drop, and elongates a weary grin.
Time assumes the rite of Way, as we wait submissively...
and in accumulation of wait on wait--we wait no more.
Our turn is taken up, in turn.
Why the trilogy of a past, present and future?
What Physician unifies light outer and inner, in a
concentrated beam...to pass over our three eyes?
Perhaps an eye for, kept upon--each pillar of time's
trilogy.
Time ensnares our volition to ensure our grace, as the
wind that enlisteth not, bespeaks of it.