Time is ticking, the old clock on the
Mantle, the digital clock on your phone
Following the same pattern. Tonight the
Conjunction of outer planets means
nothing except the universe is intact
For millennia. Which we will not see.
Because they’ve figured out your frame
They do not know the skies show
An earlier picture, locked on distance
Locked on time. But yet I am one to ask
You look up at the sky, remember its patterns: some nights nothing but the gray clouds.
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