Straight

The day moves into the horizon, the night sails by the shadows, temptation lurks, under the murky deep earth, bound by time and space, wrapped in a web, cosmic white ribbon laced, modulation of the tick, and tock of the clock, moving up, looking down, travelling through the taxi cabs of space, only to be floating along the sea of seconds, the mist of minutes, time tip toes and eventually falls, floating drunk from the tavern, can you get the pattern, nothingness, timeless, space bound, the sound of the universe, is the sound of silence, meditate and yoke the soul with the body and make a hybrid, higher than any bird, deeper than any worm, moving in transverse rather than straight.