Poems of Lighthouse Bob
Passage through the Hourglass #288
Passage through the Hourglass The corridor between the silent hands which spun with myr-i-ads of molten sand that flowed back equal increments of time held many doors through many walls that lead to countless many halls where many stairs remained on which to climb and I had not the time… …and I had not the time to look behind each mystic door and as-cer-tain which walls or floors would bring me here to where I am at last a phantom with some inkling of my past peering pointless at this hourglass. Lighthouse Bob |
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Passage through the Hourglass #288
Passage through the Hourglass #288