Is inside
your head
With its
needle in the red
Is only a
phantom.
It’s just a
crowding of
Thoughts
uninvited
Knocking
incessantly
At your
mind’s door.
That cosmic
tick tock you think
Is counting
you down
To
judgement hour each day
Is contrived
too.
Time is
indifferent
To moments
both meaningful
And trivial.
Its nature
is to flow
And all you
need to do
Is float
along…
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