Time Cord
11/25/13
An inch marked time cord
Walked out I'm drawn toward
Starts out times cold
Turns out I'm old
What comes close as I come closer?
Am I being drawn on by an invisible tower?
Is this cord already made?
Or am I sitting on times creative blade?
Time can be so cold and it burns my hands
Made up of experience fibers
Ripped from their root's lands.
Formed in some golden existence
By the Makers assistants.
What if time as this cord is temporary
Sent in hope of piercing of our story.
Legislated to each with an expiration date
Where in we have a choice or it becomes to late.
All dead time fibers in the end must be burned
And with them all those through whom the message of life was spurned.
One day I hope to no longer pull this cord
When this phantom of life becomes the reality of the Lord.
Even now I've begun to see
That time was only given to me
To turn my eyes toward a dead tree
And under a rock new life would free
I've begun to no longer pull on a secondary source
Its' slowly becoming more raw,
The living three dish course.
