Time and circumstance are the parents and progeny of every moment, both hated and embraced.
In the absence of the former:
Even unto the electric dance, one finds contorted static.
The brink eternally terrifies and
The longed-for intimacy hangs infinitely un-tasted
Yet somehow compliant to whim.
In the absence of the latter:
A tool to measure the decided vacuum cannot be conjured.
The Stuff of Dreams fleeting even a ghost form
Enthralls and entices none with anathematic paradox.
Each conscious of the shared reliance at survival’s enticing table.
A tepid and mutually destructive balance,
Attached to the dominating wills of
A blind juggernaut and a paralysed giant.