Making time: A poem

Once upon a time
I might have written a book
about space and these walls
and how things look
About you in your place
and me in mine
the clock running down
crisscrossed timelines
About a life in the spotlight
a story, a plot
me, the protagonist
likely or not
About vaulting my hurdles
big ones and small
and discovering victories
are no victory at all.

The end is in sight
it's clearer than day
Pushing it back
doesn't push it away
A Greek tragedy
and a diffident God
A deus ex machina
a wink and a nod
Oh, pulley me up
take me out of this space
I'm all out of melancholy
I'm all out of grace
Where are you now
when I call out the most
an indifferent Father
and a frolicking Ghost.

Time blurs, in the end, one day to the next
Monday or Saturday, are all the same as it happens
Packing minutes into hours, and losing days
like water, through my fingers —
Once upon a time
I might have read a book.

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