Serpents coil, Continuum unfolds.
What you touch is not what you hold. The
hands of clocks ripple in shadowed folds. Are
you here now or was it an older breath that left
the tombstone shivering under raindrops on antique pages?
Hidden alleyways whispering stories of temporal wanderlustillors.
the woven clusters to place the stars within distress
Infinite fragments devour the disparity while
Time sculpts faces of porcelain on the chaos-bound visage,
weaving serenades to the anxious sky.