Time floats on a sea of quicksilver
From a land; a parcel, a piece, a sliver
From a stream like an uncharted river
Meandering majestically in its path
From its virgin place of birth
Sea-bound or wherever it must berth
Unknown destinations to skip
Sometimes thru fields of grey on its trip
Gurgle unfrozen in film and microchip
Through the mist of fog's fear grip
To strike a storm-tossed rudderless ship
Into the embrace of an ocean currents rip
Softly it lands in benign complications
From flimsy wires of our dedications
That gives feasts of ecstasies or meditations
A carnival of daydreams or ataxies from medications
It sings and choruses through our doors
To drive they who are queasy to the dance floors
When finally self-assured at rest, it glots
In fields of hibiscuses and roses, it gloats
And lilies and boats of hyacinths and hopes
Like a colored butterfly, it glides, perches, and floats
Birds twitter and chirp chords to their melodies
Time runs swiftly and quietly with prosodies and parodies
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