When the time is right is it time to go? Is it time to stop? When is right? Do I have another hand elsewhere ready to say no now this time?! Oh wait that’s my hand. Experience in time is a wonderful,funny thing to my. My joy to live my time is right when? Whenever I say it is. When is it your time to do whatever?!
In death I hope to enjoy the sweet taste of mg time. Is it up? Ill ask myself! Is it time now I become that which I am, spreading my rusted bones across the hazel skies. The sparkly bits of the child’s eye in the time of her first lick of a tasty treat to the first spark of hate. It was her time. A speck of moment. A circle wrapped in amber frazzled hair whipping at my face again and again. So cold. I’ll be with my bones until the end of now which hope and joy recedes to the back glasses of the rippling cocktail of life, spilling over, whilst those who embrace the death of their life take a sip and hope in the moment to realize they are a Phoenix.