The Quanta of Time
The Quanta of Time
The quanta of time slip by, a profusion of solitudes,
Their legendary brevity challenging would-be observers.
Deniers outnumber believers in this mixed-up world,
Where gremlins skip through gaps in time,
Souring milk, stealing socks, and spoiling meat.
They're building a sock golem bigger than T. rex,
It's lumbering toward Bethlehem, “Live”
Sewn into its corduroy brow,
Each step a tock between the ticks we know,
Each in-drawn breath an entropic wind,
Peeling paint off galactic hearts,
Each exhalation a disintegrating blast,
Burning subatomic bonds
In an unrelenting flame.
If a creator made this thing, this world,
What the hell was s/he thinking?!