What would you do?
If awoken with tomorrow at your fingertips,
It was asked of you to shape,
In a truly determined fashion:
The Yet?
I
Would freeze.
Let time slip into a standstill,
Forever in definition
Against transcendence;
That revolt of past days.
And you’d be right to blame me,
With a cool timber tinted with righteousness,
You could call me a murderer.
But at least,
I couldn’t burn
It all down again.