Herding the ants
Wrangling the angst
Whilst moments tick away
And years are forgotten
Deep below the shallow
The clock ticks, slows, speeds
As time bends, springs, and then,
With the stunning slow motion of a soft trudge through
Dark, forbidden quicksand
Miles from civilization, near the center of nowhere
Deep in the bayou
The wraith leaps
Never to be wrangled
As the ship sails silently through the empty dark void
Of deepest space