All the Time

Of course there is no more time.

It means but it doesn’t rhyme.

If everything is obscure,

we are out of time for sure.

Without the prolog we are lost;

by a playful tide we are tossed.

If we don’t know what was said,

our self-consciousness is dead.

The meaning of time to me

is lost in eternity.

I know what time is all about.

It’s an illusion, no doubt.

Is time a shaggy dog story

or merely an allegory?

Walt Abbott–1-2-10