Things are thieves of time

Things are thieves of time.

All these things of ours

are referential slaves

by human intent.

This thievery, in reverse,

steals us

from a universal oneness

and in transition appropriates us,

from our humans’ oneness.

And by the way,

we, as those humans

once again,

we honorably made up

a concept called time,

where by

we senselessly give in to it

by thinginess

to get away from our being.

Things are one

of our lip service ways

to appease the mind’s attention.

Things tether us

into time binds.

Things are our sheep

from a forlorn flock,

grazing away from concern

and always in need of a round up.

Things pilfer the days

as if their looting

was a form of celebration

in the land of entitlement.

Things never weep

and are hardly ever themselves

for lost.

We play them

for entertainment,

for usage,

for status,

for distraction.

And they play us

for consciousness,

for a mind occupancy

of relative worth,

for attention grabbed

by ownership claims,

and for a false sense

of possession.

Things take the time they need

and we are propagandized

to think so.

Things take us away

and won’t give us back

until death do us part.