Time, am I in it or is it in me?
Futile, seems the relay upon my arm
as my mind barely sense times beating balm
is time's steady seam just a simple reed?

In one once dense point devoid of time
no sense occured as yet there were no lense
giggled though as our minds lightly tickled it's fence
unchained space, aligns into years of light.

All time takes a while, timeless, for sure, none
most, as it seams, it takes to solve its pun
a smooth cup of coffee, a cup of tea

one after the other, then inside out
takes space, every once in a while, timeout
is my text an attetude upon the sea?