with
her tintinnabulating anklets
sullen ‘time’
now thirsty for blood
sticks her elongated tongue
at ‘consciousness’
threatening to annihilate him
and his tired creation

ever present ‘consciousness’
in his state of yogic trance
smiles to counter:
for me - ‘time’ always is still
at best, relative
so, if and when,
i wake up to perform
my ultimate twilight dance,

will you even exist?


© 2021