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Lux Capacitor Mar 2015
You wanna know what it's like
to be a rebel?
You wanna know what it's like
outside the salt circle
looking in?
I tell you what, I'm not dancing
as much as flailing.
Fitting enough, I am crashing
again the closer
that I get.
You wanna know what it's like
to be the other?
You wanna know what it's like
to live as if you were
not dead but
wholly aware
in stasis?
Holy stasis,
what is it like
to be alive
unmoving
and empty,
dry of passion?
I better tell
this bitter truth,
that being you
isn't worth
half the strength
you generate.

I tell you what, I'm not dancing
as much as flailing.
Fitting enough, I am crashing
again the closer
that I get.
You wanna know what it's like
to be the other?
You wanna know what it's like
to live as if you were
not dead but
wholly aware?
I would trade wealth
and mental health
for just a touch
of the sand
containing
what has gone lost.

Just a touch,
I want your hand.

What's it like to be the metronome?
I tell you what,
I dance a lot.
Shruti Atri Jan 2015
A seed is planted,
Leaves grow,
Flowers bloom,
Fruits ripen,
The bark toughens,
The stem branches out...

Seasons change,
Leaves wither,
Flowers wilt,
The fallen fruits rot,
The bark wrinkles,
The branches grow higher...

The eternal onset of time,
As the sand escapes the funnel of the hourglass.
Invert and repeat for every empty bulb.
A life, progressing from *birth,

Ending at decay.

Time, she plays her tune-
Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-...
Like a metronome set to 60 BPM;
Never stopping, ever stomping on,
Oscillating to the mechanical rhythm of Time's pendulum,
Journeying to a finite end on a path set up to infinity.

*Time, she is proof, that we are alive--
Proof that decay hunts down the living...

— The End —