London Poem: Day 176

9 February

Time is continuously ticking,
Its revolutions beating off-time,
Begging the question:
How do we separate the grand,
Verbose statements from strictly
Spinning in the wild layers of
Misunderstanding? Are we
Beneficiaries of fate, or
Are we merely products of
Time folding over to make
Comfort a living thing?
It doesn’t matter, to stay where
We are will defy the varying
Threats to what we have.
So, lets us rebel; stay beside me
And let us, for the time,
Forget this whole thing.

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In flux

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