I let too much come in between, and
now the fences can be seen, of necessary things undone, like tendrils climbing toward the sun, all reaching
for the freedoms space, to find where time has lost it's place.
Tendrils of time have run amuck, and scattered through
this pile of slough, searching for knots to be undone, all tied together for freedoms fun, a minutes
rest must find it's place, within this circle of time and space.
Hidden in the depths of time, a silent thought tries
to unwind, among the tangled webs of space, without the benefit of grace, and softly rests upon this tower,
of minutes lost within the hour.
A moments notice lost to sight, when sudden thoughts
try to take flight, and soar into the freedoms space, though trying not, can't win the race, for fences
reach into the time, where rest has come now to unwind.
But time escapes from peaceful rest, as sunbeams rise
reveal the nest, of necessary things undone, building fences, up the sum, like rushing, foaming,
scourging tides, allowing not, moments aside.
For time waits not on those behind, but rushes
on that they may find, the need to make each moment count, belaying all on those that mount,
and then secure the freedoms space, assuring all a time and place.
So tackle time upon the fence, undoing things held
in suspence, creating groves of freedoms space, soon to be filled in silent grace, and build upon this vacant
tower, of minutes found within the hour.