Asynchronous

 The clock moves so slowly
Sometimes...
Actually, quite often...
The end of the story
Is where the story begins...
In the in-betweens,
It is a wasteland or a rainforest...
Time feels inconsistent...
Underwhelming...
Overwhelming...
Perception of it
Amplifies either experience...
We are blind men
Chasing shadows...
Trying vainly to capture the unseen...
Deaf men
Listening to symphonies,
The vibrations of planets 
Orbiting the sun...
We feel it,
But can't describe our feelings...
Vainly trying to capture 
That which cages us,
This medium, time,
That physicality
Grows in,
Birth to death...
Growth and decay...
Always waiting, waiting, waiting
For something to happen,
For the mood to change...
Time is just a petri dish of agar, 
And even inorganic things
Propagate through it...
Veins of ore...
Mineral deposits...
Helium powered stars
More dense than physical reality,
Lighter than air...
We measure it,
And we can feel it pass
Like a breeze,
But it has no shape
Other than a line
According to how we have agreed
To perceive it...
We can't touch it
Even though it ravages
Everything it touches...
Just as metal fatigues
Over the years
Under constant load bearing force,
The mind bows 
Sometimes 
Under the force exerted
By the passage of time...
Here again,
There again...
Mixed and remixed
Like the latest internet meme...
We wait in line
For our turn,
Sometimes,
And sometimes
We cut
Too deep...
The needle's hiss
While it's in the spiraling groove...
The crackles and the pops
Yellowing the photo's edge...
Time has no physicality
Without something
Observing it...
It steals our bodies
To prove its own reality...
Borrows our flesh 
For the length of a lifetime,
For the measurement 
Of our conscious ability
To perceive its passing...
Grains of sand
Wearing down the mountain,
And turning mountains into sand...
In the meantime,
We waste time with
Empty, circular conversations 
Reminiscing over stories
We tell and re-tell,
Or of future wishes
We may or may not fulfill...
Every retelling 
Changes an imperceptible bit...
Degrades the initial message
Just a little bit more
Even if, at first glance,
Things appear to be exactly the same...
Having the same arguments 
Throughout history
With no real resolution...
Having the same conversations
Repeatedly
As if there were no memory
Of past conversations...
Even those who study history
Appear to be doomed 
To repeat it...
The same questions being asked
Over and over again...
Constantly either
Searching for meaning,
Or telling ourselves comforting lies
As if we've discovered
What that meaning is...
No one really knows...
No one who knows
Really knows...
We all hear the quiet whispers,
Some try to drown them out,
Some try to amplify them,
Straining to hear
Just one, tiny particle
Of understanding...
But even if they were 
As loud as the Big Bang,
They would still be incomprehensible...
We would not understand...
Sometimes it's like time lapse photography 
Passing at faster than light speeds
As our mass increases...
Slowing us down,
Or trying to,
But rules were designed
To tempt us to break them,
To encourage us 
To drive in the wrong lane,
Come to the wrong conclusions...
Safety was never a consideration...
Waking dreaming 
Where fish can fly
And we are gods of our own
Invention...
Anything can happen in the dreamtime...
Known physics has no true hold
Where we actually exist...
Where we ultimately
Came from...
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