the timeless ones.
internal clocks synchronized to longer moments.
rhythems of season, light and dark, specific and general.
patterns of finitude surfing the ebb of the infinite tide.
spacing the pace where memory and experience dance.
but who is counting anyway.
short sighted expectation is a letdown for hopes sake.
time, the sum of all place, is on the move.
are you ready to dance?
how bout lets start by breathing truth…relatively speaking.
