I require a sharp harness, a remote, high-tech device to take control.
I cannot wait. It is slipping away. Evading. Passing by.
I cannot capture it. I cannot pause it,
Nor stop it, I need to tame it,
Bend it to my will
Yet it is
Turning back, skipping forward,
It is a slippery matter. It seems to roar, evolve
And revolve with a will of its own. It waves a sense of fate.
History. Destiny. I need to escape. Still. Relentlessly, it shoves it in my face.
First published on Diary of a Soul Writer