Wright's Writing

time

grimly

pressing on,

on, on, on, on,

mowing down our love

of love and life and self,

impersonal, disdainful,

proud, yet life-uncomprehending,

 lonesome in its omnipotency,

pitiful in its self-destructive zeal

fueled by self-hate, rancor, envy

of unmechanical beings

who have knowledge of passion—

a lingering moment

whose memory is

forever and

overcomes

deathly

time