And the minutes go by
So the hours, days and years
The position that once stood so firm
Has expanded into exploration
The daily chores and mores
With bitter or sweet stories
Bind me still to this day
The habit of waking up time after time
Either at daylight or approach of night
And facing the identity of times
The pressure of working slow or hard
Within an established web of might
Which clings like leaves
To the branches of Time
The relations that hooded my selfhood
The directions that booted me
Into realm of rotations
Keeping me circling the same dimension
The brushing of teeth, the shaving
The haircutting, the nail clipping
The eating, drinking, garbage dumping
And many other typical decisions
Hinting at the peace of indecision
And by now you might have guessed
My oasis is repetition's rest.