time is ripe

time is ripe and my dreams are seeds spoiled inside the rotten skin the flesh of this fruit fallen from the tree and now on the ground and in the ground of the ground ashes to ashes dust to dust I am what I was and will be again
god is naked in this biology transparent in the chemistry of the ticking clock the science of silence the inner workings the gears that grind my thoughts allow inevitable and the path that all walk to the end the wall that cannot be climbed
beauty is an invisible substance a molecule between pressed fingers examination lends not to knowledge the transparency of any things as all things and yet to each a name and nomenclature defining the space between