Time is not a tale,
not a written story,
It is a flow in a
river, a current in a sea.
Time has no
branches, no trunk with a bark,
It is vaster than
Yggdrasil, and as deep as the Earth.
Time does not
listen, does not also see,
It is within the
senses, count them more or just six.
Time is a collage,
a puzzle in a maze,
It is quieter than
a facade, glittering in a snake.
Time is a glimpse,
a dank copper plate,
It is brighter than
history, for history is a dream.
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