The dark molasses passing of time
During those days when I cannot recall
What I have achieved
And can think of nothing else
I am tempted to pursue.
In my youth I spoke with God
During the confluence of night and dawn.
He has since wandered off
To tend to unknown matters
Leaving me to mutter to myself.
I cannot recall how long I have sat here
Waiting for his return,
Raging at him as the years lapse.
Only to realize that it was I
Who left the conversation
To tend to a million little things
That never needed my attention.
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