Five Four Three
a concept drought
this mortal metronome
count and erode
protect a sliver
wanted
necessary
desire
require
them flapping wings
bird named Newton
sundial tracing chances
her life
his
my X amount
plus future history
if every moment
joy
melancholy
between
if our heartbeats
are hoarded
I’ll shoulder ram
that vault
it’s gonna open
what we receive
will fill our void
monumental reclaim
still
there’s always
a limit