TIME MURMURS
by Justin Thyme
You stumble forward into potentiality,
But you can’t escape your own brutality;
The future may be an untilled soil,
But as for the past, it’s black spilt oil.
Take out your small seed and plant it;
You’ll find the ground no longer wants it;
You think it might be easy to split;
But didn’t you always want to quit.
The past is absolute hate;
The future is just a bit of bait;
Your cone of timidity escapes
All possible contemporaneity.
But there’s a region of time
Where all theories fail;
Try as you might to rhyme
All your lies will turn pale.
Raw desire passes through
A long physical causal chain;
Yeah, the past is free of the future;
But the future is not free of the past.
When the observer crosses the line,
The observed falls into time;
The future is a function of your destiny;
What you did to me was as certain as fate.
There was a time before time
When there was no time at all,
Not a single number, not a single digit,
We were one, and we were love-
- And if time wasn’t then
Then how can it be now?
Some day you’ll come back to me:
Beyond time we are still one.
