Time in Truth

Your clock turns my times into believable spells of intuition. The way your time collapses onto my shoulder every few months doesn’t confuse me anymore. Your hands are moved by love, your seconds spew bullets of man made hope and the days you long for are the ones that would tick to the beat of my belly. But oh great one; the forever of your time can’t be connected with mine because your fear of our past is the Wall of Prevention.

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