It’s not that I want to be in a box,
It’s about escaping the clocks.
Escaping the constant ticking of time and loss surrounding me.
However wide the universe may be,
I still feel everything catching up with me.
Every element of the earth becoming too much to bare,
I simply sit and stare as time begins to shorten.
But it’s not that I want to be in a box.
In a box, I will miss the scent of flowers and gentle knocks upon the wood of the docks.
Creativity will be lost to the soil,
Imagination bleeding away from the mind within the lifeless.
I long for endless deadlines.
I long for thoughts that carry the light of the stars and not the weight of the moon.
It’s not that I want to be in a box,
It’s about escaping the clocks.