Calm Time Charmed
by Bella Basura
It seems I have been here a year, living in this charmed place, a sleepy little bower in the bosom of paradise.
Here, time moves so slowly that it feels never-ending. There, out in the real, grey world time turns gyrations, so that at the intake of a breath galaxies burst into being, only to recede into cosmic void at the beat of the outbreath.
So that by the time I make up my mind to return,
hundreds of thousands of years have passed, and I suspect,
everybody has evolved into a future-race of super-bellicose giant killer-crabs,
walking sideways, angrily.
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