Am I tardy for the party? I guess.
Did I start my stride before I hit it?
Why, yes. And time is such a bloody mess.
It's so easy to hide or to split it.
But I'm still moving, the stride will soon hit.
And then will my strength be enough to change
time? Possibly. I'm in tune with Spirit
movements that make of time a spatial range:
We are all blessed with a most noble gift,
but like candlelights, we must keep it bright,
or we run the the risk of going adrift,
of crashing our raft and drowning our light:
I'll put psalms in the air that caress you
as you fake sneezes to hear snakes "bless you."
urbansonnets 