More fool I that I
allow this brooding over
a time that is not and will never be
to usurp the moments that now never
will come again to run away with me
but when there is only this
how it circles in on its own eye
and seeing but itself now
can the thing not wind in in tight and die
and so it is the ancients
as we call them questioned change
how can it be that anything
that's packed so tight can
rearrange
and I have never cracked their case
their riddle still has me stumped
And I could only hope it was not
Sisyphus' hill I humped
what
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