Photo by Boba Jovanovic on Unsplash

Is becomes ought, becomes is again
Doubly strong
All knotted time goes

Blood sprouts from brows
Eyes comb the low ground
Aged men recede to attics
Boys to their basements, until the time to climb

Are there yet no raybeams?
Do the mighty cosmos not penetrate
Your paper-thin veil?
It’s not…