Time
is the pirate,
stealing
as the perfect crime,
burying
wisdom alive.
Knowledge
there of, breathes contempt.
And
we, having respect for respect,
do
not break picket lines in front of life,
do
not cross fire lines,
hiding
our souls.
We
make language work at our side.
We
make believe,
as
if there were none.
We
make do,
into
the dust of the deed of the sun.
You
and I wear a causality.
We
carry the twinkle of the sky in our mind.
The
night tells lies only to those already victims
who
abuse their predicament.
Time
is the pirate,
stealing,
the perfect crime,
burying
wisdom alive.
This
knowledge breathes contempt.
And
we, still, having respect for respect.
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