Five Hours

In the first hour of losing control
The feeling of loss becomes an obsession
The windblown ribbons of failure, unroll

In the second hour of closing black holes
The cycles of change have no meaning or shape
The darkness of space and time watches souls

In the third hour of losing the whole
The spiraling costs become a reminder
The winners as one keep their secrets, untold

In the fourth hour of moving the goals
The mind numbing silence drains all sense of self
The restless tired eyes awaken to dreams foretold

In the fifth hour of reading lost scrolls
The collective scriptures are focused on life
The reminder to live right or wrong in the moment, unfolds

Long lost mind thoughts missing, nothing to console
In the end the conversations were circular anyway
From a safe distance, all memories are thoughts controlled
From a safe distance, focused thoughts are wonders to behold 

© J. Bateman

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