Domm, domm,
heavy
hollow
echoes,
shadows
of what may come.
Thunk, thunk,
sculpting a thought
one chip at a time,
but time
becomes the harmonic
that shatters
the opus.
Weird sounds,
unlikely linkages,
and hiding,
hiding,
hiding and sheltered
in the backroom
of my mind.
Once there was a time,
and once a time there was
when we knew who we were,
when we knew where we were going,
when we almost
knew why.