A twilight now, as my nocturnal and weariful self,
Causes a failance to slumber, befalling me for every passing moonrise,
Turn to the clock, my mind begins a curious conjure;
'Certainly, the tool of time, was no such tool given to homo sapiens
'But instead, a tool whom creator is Man.'
So with this, my thoughts begin to unwind, repressing my slumber,
Growing my indulgence to inscribe these recollections of mine.
''Tis logical to presume that homo sapiens do not behold the great answer,
'But are, in fact, a small spec in comparison to the cosmos, beyond,
'And so, to use this logic, I can presume the tool of time is in fact an illusion.'
'What I can in fact presume is ipso facto would be noon and noonlight,
'For as the world turns, affection of light and night,
'Noon and noonlight is present and different, yet everywhere, in coincidence.
'Time is an illusioned tool, conjured due to humanity's need of mendacity,
'The evidence? Devotion.'
And although this statement is harsh, to some, difficult to sympathize,
I do respect beliefs and such, merely an opinion, I conjure
For the worried white rabbit that chases time, in need to be on time,
Will never truly able to be.
For he could have been early,
He could have arrived yesternoon,
He could have been there the morrow.
For this is the greatest illusion, which bewitches those unthoughtful enough.
YOU ARE READING
My Darkest Recollections: a Collection of Poems
PoetryA collection of poems of mine, the first poem has the same name as the title, as at first there was only the first but I have decided that I might as well keep the title the same and call the collection of poems/short pieces of literature I create '...
