149, 720, 226

I think about a time before time all the time

Before the sun’s journey carved the world up

Wrote new edicts called days with hours and minutes and even smaller increments, too small to matter but large enough to fill and call it time

I think about a time when sleep came and went and didn’t care whether the sun was shining or the moon was gleaming

Sleep just sunk into the bones of the young and old impartially

Because a few wrinkles did not mean more years, only that one had walked the earth a while more

Even that is to splice a lifetime into segments, and I think about times when time didn’t matter

Tomorrow, I will think about a time before compasses when one could steer themself in any direction without a particular destination in mind

Yesterday, I thought about what it means to waste something