schwartzschild metric.

A state of mind

stretched thin and taut, 

at far horizon’s reach. 

Where sea and sky’s

salt whispers meet.

Entropy was birthed

into this uncertain space,

molecular bone thin.

A trace of dreams, a drift 

in sea fog and mist.

Truth waits patient in  

time’s geometry,

a construct within 

perceptions door.

Course sands 

drunk on seawater,

bare feet navigate

with a crunch 

of calcium carbonate.

Gasps of silence wisp,

where atoms thin

and edges finally appear.

Enter tesseract’s time,

reciting poems from

class-room years.

Exaggeration steps of 

dead friends, where

every room is cold.

Discard and shed

until desiccated,

naked babies swim

alone and regretful

to horizons edge. 

Now all about is time,

nothing else exists.

And as you slow

it stops… forever.

©️ Dai Fry 26th March 2020.