Echo

There is a silence ticking
In the clock, a microcosm
Of oceans, wormholes, and
Dreams, expanding into the
Spaces beyond the void, a
Clockwork of dark matter
Stretched beyond the usual
Elasticity of the universe.
The moon moves across the
Sun, and a darkness falls
Through the pinholes of the
Wooden case that holds time
In a box, and the thread of
History begins to unravel.
Infinity is an echo.

R 29/03/2025 11:59