when the seasons begin to blend
and the years start to run together
like wet paint left vertical
then age creeps upon you
like a heavy cloak
and moments flee into hours
which melt into days
and the weight drags you downward
to a royal stately bed
the chamber of passage
into the land without time
you begin to hear a music unearthly to the core
that makes you want to shed
everything you have ever known
to be free
open
bare
just as you were
before your birth
squeezed and compressed your being
into the confines of oxygen and clocks
The Wisdom of Gavroche 