Now now, once today, again tomorrow.
Now now, thrice a night, twice a morning.

Let us abandon all rhyme and reason,
That did make my thoughts flow.
Let thoughts ferment through mindless thinking,
And reek of nothing other.

Where then I did wake from a long journey’s slumber,
That did make me think and drown asunder,
In winds that blew then, and clouds that flew then,
And made me not one of mindful thinking.
There I did wake, where then I made,
A journey forward, and backward all at once.
Through Paris that paradise of frauds,
Through Florence that blossom of thoughts.
And found myself nowhere other,
Than there where I woke but fifteen days ago.
And asked:

Where I did wake, now I am again,
To where I shall go, for all that has past?

And at once I found a path I had walked,
A thought unthought, an act undone,
That was where I wept but three months ago,
Of that unthought decision.

But alas, no time to think, there are places to be,
And in no time I was again fast asleep.
But this journey was not ‘cross planets, but across stars,
And much longer did I this time sleep.

To a throbbing head I woke,
To foreign words and blabbering mouths.
The sands that layered about the lands,
Could never again make a sight to me.
Yet there lived a cousin or two,
Or three hundred then that I did not know,
And to they at least I must pay my please,
For how else could I mutter again these:

For a thousand journey's rest, I shall not end,
Lest I’ve seen all that the worlds have to offer me.

And a smile I did, or two or three,
Or unknown faces, in oddly tongues.
A mindless other that did make me think,
So drink I did then, in reckless reverie.

And next I woke on ocean’s bed,
A dream, ay, but one I had.
To swim ashore would render my end,
And there I did lay, ‘til its time to wake again.

And next I wake, ‘twas noon already,
But time is lost, and thoughts aren’t thought.
To work then, where I shall again,
Lay my head in hopes of never waking again.
But dreams aren’t made of cotton candy,
And thoughts aren’t thought with fancy machines,
So there I did stay, a two hundred days,
To knowingly know nothing midst those deserts.

The pale was lit thanks to the city lights,
And a restless city could make me dead.
That night a moon did shine her light,
To ask me a question I had thought time again:

Where I did wake, now I am again,
To where I shall go, for all that has past?

But time would never give my rest,
And ‘morrow was the preplanned date,
So pack I did under the moonlight’s gaze,
For travel again, a short while it’ll be.

To another city across the space,
I land within but a day’s time.
But there I did meet a friend long lost,
And adventure was in the name of this time’s journey.
Aha! What joy I had, in but 3 days time,
To live in a foreign city had never been so fun.
Yet it was my companion who would make my joy,
For it was over in but 3 day’s time.
What woe.

And now to a time where I shall by myself,
Conduct and live under the pale moon’s gaze,
To compose in solitudal misery, the excellent fertilizer.
An opus greater than before.

But nay, and there I did lay, in spite of all dreams of prose and geometry,
For I may not have this time.
Another journey awaits, and what grief!
But how else shall I mutter again these:

For a thousand journey's rest, I shall not end,
Lest I’ve seen all that the worlds have to offer me.

But words are mutter by adolescent fools,
And thoughts are what really matters in the end.
In tired fashion I must go on, regardless of me,
And how I wish I had never left my house.