Incessant, incessant –
I find my thoughts arcing in a crescent
from crescendos to abysses,
there isn’t a second that my raging thoughts misses.
From the morning to sundown,
I find I can’t stop mourning those put down –
or celebrating my speciality,
or therein what I perceive to be.
After many months and yearning years,
I find that there is thus one way –
one way to render these rites as relinquished –
and it comes calling with crawling clocks.