The future need not
be helplessly drawn, as the
past charges ahead.
I made these spinning wheels, sped
them with Regret. I set it free, off
in a whinnying canter.
all round. I turn to look, then
place my first next step.
In the heavy dark,
fractals flux and scintillate,
Time disperses, light floods in,
lands drift past, voices resonate, and
warmth cascades and fills all space.
I float, gently on.
Blackness crumbles in the past,
enveloped in ice.