Ad Vitam Aeternam

a minotaur, or
cupid, an eater
of time - minutes
like manna falling
from the skies - all
seven or eleven of them.

for that's eighteen too.

and numbers are strange and
able to be manipulated - perhaps
much like time - strings of theories
or string theory? theoretical physics?
a lack of gravity? time slips forward, but
it also slows, grows, bends, eventually ends -

and the song starts again.

and the eater of time
continues the feast
perhaps over-
eating, as
in gulping
'stead of
simply sipping,
slowly being filled.

how to divide your time
between all the things
(beings or otherwise)
with which you want
to occupy your time?

do you dilute the
interaction a little
to spread yourself out
more?

questions.

Ad Vitam Aeternam

and after time,
then?