> Grey Matter Oeuvre - Poetry & Paintings: Time<META name="keywords" content="poetry, poems, poet, art, literature, writing, publishing, publish">



Time stutters, halts, and grinds,
sand thrown in the gears.
words hang frozen in the air.
time will not retreat to withdraw them,
nor move forward past.
they linger, like a fist frozen in mid-air.
I keep moving, waiting, busying myself,
but the world is halted and untouchable.
I haven't seen the people
that once made time roll so easily.
I hug no warm companions.
I stare blankly into the void
of a computer screen. The only movement
is what I place on it.
Time has creaked into a deathly still,
and I'm left behind...
with books to read, as well as write,
and my will to see stamped out
by my clumsy tromping feet.
When there is no time at all, no motion,
you have all the time in the world...
and no more use for any of it.


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