Here I am again,
I am bending time, again.
Today is my future; back-in-the-day.
I pause to wonder, what will anyone,
Make of this then, when the time comes?

I crucible these seconds
And everyday wince at the torture,
And reach for cooling cream,
And teaching myself a lesson,
I try to remove the heat.

Tough steel, this arm of mine.
With it I reach for my doorstep
To crush a grape.
I rush then for the gate,
I crumble some memories, then race away.

I begin again at the centre.
I am like the pebble splashed in a pond.
I bleep and bleed the ripples.
I concentrate and stir,
I am moving fast now towards the edges.

Here is the can of life,
I am pressured and cooked.
The being who has been, come and gone.
I long for the pierce of death
And the escape from eternity.

My timescape is blasted to an edge with smithereens.
Macroscopic space curves for my flight.
Here through the tinctured lens of hope
Is detected by watchers,
The chasm of the catastrophic sanctum.

Hello I gesture,
From this side of the mirror.
I try to sign my position.
No one sees through the silver,
Seems I am finally around the bend.

Prepare this place for me
I have been here before.
It was just as I was beginning,
When I had closed the final door.
Watch for yourself as I arrive once more.

Here again,
I had been bending time with a brain.
Today was to be my future.
Back-in-the-day I recall, I paused to wonder, 
What has anyone, made of this, now my time is gone?

© 2018 Christopher Thompson  All Rights Reserved.
Written in the English Midlands.

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