Time I scoff at your relentless tick tock
for what do you signify ?
The passing of trains,
Planes to catch,
Or some other appointment in your
O! so certain future.
As for my life,
It will not be measured by a mechanism.
Each grain of me passes through
so easily
and I am piled
then dissipated
spread wide upon a widening shore
to lose myself inside each wave,
Each wave that sifts me pure.
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