THE WEAVE:

Mars writes by candelight

in the cabin of a merchant ship,

on the Eclipse Seas, in Scorpio,

considering Death. The parchment reads…

It is not that
I do not 

contain respect
for Death.  It is just

that I really do not
feel Time pass fleeting.

I have had 
the experience, of deep

regret, lodged long
in the past, but not

often the feeling Time
moves fast.  Identity

is fleeting; the myth
we string together, this week.

Soul gains mass
When rearranging.  It bends

full.  May we use it
to our advantage, to Tell

the pathWays of the brain
their shapes, and choose

the ones we want
to craft a Life

so ripe, there is no Time
for Telling.

Suddenly, Mars

gets a text, from Uranus.

Just a picture, of a page, from a book,

U is reading…