:: The
Hands Of The Sundial ::
When I awoke
It was after dark
Somehow I had missed the mark
On the Sundial
Which tells me what year it is
Some
form of ancient wisdom
People who told time by the stars
And mapped infinite light years
With millimeter accuracy
I
was late for work again
The
boss at my corporate job
Seemed meaner than usual
I tried to avoid his eyes
But
his volcanic rage erupted
At the mere suggestion of my shadow
Which for some reason was walking ahead of me
I
stood my ground
My
shadow, now scared
Ran underneath my feet for cover
I
believed I was standing on the equator
At high noon
With the sun directly over top of me
My shadow directly below
And my corporate nightmare
Screaming in my face
I
woke up again
I
was late for work
I
began to brush my teeth
The sort of thing that one does
Even when there is no time
Or
is there time?
Perhaps
time is only our way
Of counting our limited perceptions
Of linear thought processes
Or
maybe the moving hands of the clock
Just make us older
My
alarm clock rang
This
time it was digital
A constant reminder of
The 1's and 0's that
Bind us and free us
Entertain and enslave us
Homogenize and amaze us
I
realized someone was sleeping beside me
I turned to see my own face
Had I recently left my body?
Was this a clone
Being grown
For internal organ harvesting
At my eventual necessity?
I
decided to touch him to find out
And
then I woke up.
