Today is going to make
a strange yesterday.
It’s gonna leave a mark
on your face.
There’s no quieting the insane;
once it’s gone,
you have nothing
to leave in its place.
Time and space,
just like a kind of magic.
You exist,
woven in the fabric.
A tear,
here or there,
a little frayed from wear.
This whole world
will come apart
and you won’t be here to care.
So you sit there,
and the only new thing
under the Sun
is what’s running through your head.
You make these strange todays,
hoping you can pull a thread.
And maybe,
move the pattern
just a strand.
What are you dying
to understand?
HG – 2021
