we stare long ahead,
and amidst a pitch-black void of time,
there is a tiny scattering of light,
a breaking of our universe into a sliver of possibility.
but with feet grounded in the present,
how can we soar free?
mother time wields chains to keep us fixed—
our hands and legs barren,
only to lament lost dreams and soul-mates,
and a million imagined futures
that will slip away on this ever-moving track.
devoid of moments,
this asphyxiating road would disintegrate into ash,
the winds leading us to open skies and twinkling space.
but how could we ever
break from the ties of these universal threads?