Time Alone

Consciousness becomes

you. Given enough time, you know

all stones and bones defossilize,

enliven, and grow

again, again, again, spiriting

in cycles too vast for theories to vault.

You verb

to hide the fact you’re doing

time alone,

and there’s no escape

but to dream that eons entwine,

infinitely packed without a care

for paradox or spacetime. Here, you stroke

the everbefore-and-after

with your little hours; here, you reach

the gods of everything.

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2 thoughts on “Time Alone

  1. Gorgeous poem that resonates deep with me. I just found your blog (googled shamanism + DID + #pleasetellmei’mnotirredeemablyinsane), and I will surely return on a regular basis! Thank you for bravely sharing & giving hope.

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