Time, the Knot

There is a
Fine line;
A rope
Between what we know

And what we choose to
Believe.

Sitting

Within a grain of sand
Accepting perceptions
Without prejudice.

The rope,
A knot—
A pendulum swaying.

Quiet. Swaying.
Hands clasped,

There’s rust on their
Fingers;
The weather

Bit
At
Them.

“Time, the knot
Is coming loose.”

They said the knot would
Sway,
Steadfast,
But never break.

The pendulum; a noose.