They had their own time

I had mine too

For a genuine excavation without

Not like a widow who knows

Until, but at death

The grave.

Like new day as it comes and goes

In its own duplicate

Duplicated sequence


But my perpetual pursue

Ceased to halt at the horizon

Went round on its axis

Where I got to see but never saw.

Every black or white conception

Banging all the windows of opportunity shut.

Without any conviction


How far within this day

And now branded legally blind

All rights to paint any law.