Inside Lines v4

Inside lines of time and being shapes of the world with temperatures seeming to act for moments with rust to gather concrete examples of well weathered dust As ifme clocks itself with leaves ever growing upon stellar backdrops of nebulae showing flesh away to encompass vague meanings trees of life splintered like explosive dreaming A way through those mirrors toward mortality’s end nothing holds still like the silence of zen Gestalt with conditions; ice caps melt with the sun beyond a last day’s twilight a New Year has begun in wet snow and mud flowing acrimonious blood through early rays with that lasered wrench corrupting war continues its forsaken stench too much of the dead.