Normally it’s finite time
That heightens my senses
The hurtling deadlines awaken me
Working hard to meet someone else’s goal.
the ticking is more sinister
unyielding Time passing, and
indubitably Life itself.
Who knows what tomorrow brings?
If not the hope of many many tomorrows.
The world in a grain of sand,
That was Buddha.
My entire squandered, useless.
Unique, dull, magical
life – I watch passing unused and inefficiently, one hopes.
Before I blink
And wake again
To the noises and stench of life
That delight me awake from my torpor.