Time Is Nothing
In dank and dusty basements,
where people die alone,
and ancient cairns by weathered hands
were built with rock and stone,
in cabins long abandoned,
corners pile with leaves windblown,
on battlefields resounding as the
bullet strikes the bone,
when more than one has, indeed,
o're the cuckold's nest flown,
we realize that time is nothing
and nothing's ever known.
©Danielle White
Copyright © Danielle White | Year Posted 2009
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