If Time Should Make A Meaning...
Liaison between good and evil,
Though still look beyond the counting of crows
All that is latched by hands,
Simple granules of sand that slip out quietly
Returning to become yet again,
One with the landscape, a parcel explorated
As aromatic as RICE grains,
Scents contained by sixteen ounces
One cup full, that leads to nothing,
Infusing this trickling melt dynasty
World in waiting, limbo of creation
Hallucination worthwhile giving everything
For there is no return on a time investment,
Only the erosion left that a tide can make...