A Disordering of Time

In the murky waters of a museless night
we flail against a stagnant current.
No raging river holds us back, no storm
consumes. It is not energy that we fear
but the lack of it; not too little time
but its abundance.

The void stretches onward;
the ink’s stimulus is anywhere but with us.

We search for memories we’ve stored within;
the window calls us to its gaze
and in that moment a remembered moon
sets us down again with pen in hand to write
of yesterday through the occluded lens
of this moonless night.

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