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Have you seen, in your mind seen,
how matter twists itself?
in cycles, with rhythms, even when it cracks?
and as a byproduct of that contortion
a translucid resin oozes, with scent to wine and vinegar,
that everyone looks at as an edge question?
It does not exist, time. It doesn?t.
Nevertheless, its shadow is so obscure,
its echo so loud and so profound its track;
but ain?t is it like that with the best of your stack?
true lies? as happiness and love, good and evil?
of course, without forgetting the upmost of all: faith
So don?t think about time,
through the matter reach the energy and then
burn your eyes looking at the sun.
