Written while waiting for my friends to arrive….
Time moves
Undulating and
Weaving tapestries
Braided and knotted
From hand’s manipulative
Intentions.
Time pauses briefly
Breath held as we
Speed to catch up
Never missing a
Beat of rhythm
Hard and syncopated
By distraction.
Time stops
The end being
One more beating
Of a heart that
Gave no honor nor
Measure to Time’s
Inescapable embrace.
Time folds in on
Itself wrapping delicate
Wings of illusion around
The soul who awaits
Time in an ephemeral
Cocoon of darkness.
…… Now, It Is Time!
The Magickal Pen 
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