time un-begun,

is the twilight of Her mid-day sun,

your sabbatical in a clockless land,

beneath the lapping leaves

of trees that fan.

“Say,” you say to the you who walks by,

“What shall I now that there’s no night?

What will we with unending light?

Take me star, sun, burn me bright.

Take me star, sun, make me right.

Take me star, sun, spare my fight

that with might be, might be all right

on this shoreless shore of space, not time,

can I relax, alas, my knot in spine

where moments move but do not pass,

unending sand, Thine hour glass.

I stand upon the water’s edge

and brush my hands upon the hedge

beneath a lovely shade of green,

tall pines of southern canopies

eating skies of air so blue and

plucking tunes in minor thirds

the chirping verse of nature’s birds

rescinds this curse that I be born

undoing me that came alive

for what became must surely die,

but what’s not birthed

cannot decease, and

hence I shall

ever shall be free

in the place of

occupancy none

you celebrate the

one that’s one,

where there is

nothing ever done,

none due but to

pass the time

of time unending,

no death, no birth,

no day from night,

though sons do change

from time-to-time,

you never really ever mind,

but play, and dance, and laugh

the same, all with yourself

all that is sane

to make your worlds

and change your views,

returning now

to neverland,

to be alone,

to rest your hands,

to hug yourself,

and bid adieu,

to you and You

and all you knew,

to drink the milk

upon mom’s breast

recalling your

eternal rest

where time unfurls

from scrolls of dreams

how things were never

what they seemed and

knowing this

the thieves relieve,

returning you

your bliss,

reprieve.

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