Will is a fast forward motion,
remorse is a gaze from afar

Body is keen resistance,
mind a bodily residue

The now is riding a flying carpet,
in a dome built of breathless silence
lit by stars already succumbed

Each breath is a driving shower,
every step a tall story of ember

but I'm wrapping my head
and whatever is left
in thin bands of gray sheets of steel
carved with Turing codes of splendour