& these chords run dry for a time.
"it's ok, child, life can't go on stand by".
a man in a chair in an empty library
smokes his cigarette & reads from his favorite lines.
the dust settles & the clock hums the hours
into his ears & brain & heart.
he becomes time.
something of a fading moment.
an instant that was just an instant that becomes an instant
passing into another instant.
he sits, time itself, knowing he will be better in the future.
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