Always the misplaced rage of knowledge,
clocks and gauges, always waiting…
in broken sequence… all witness erased…
Always symbols, figures, details…
Always something, someone…
to keep an eye on…
Always frightened, the machine conspires…
to incalculable innocence,
measures waning… standing naked…
Always patience, daggers, dancers,
brothers, lovers… estranged glances…
a train in a station…
All decisions already made, an understatement,
the age of overestimation, to fill pockets deep,
and keep all seats taken…
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© G. P. Fiddament 2023
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