Larghetto
Each Sunday before lunch time, with deadlines met
To interact with clockwork – for times are pre set;
The scaffolding on Rock Place does creak, does mutter
As the coin machines they vibrate, rattle and stutter.
How long is a small wash, a strange Lady asked?
Little over 1 millennia I replied, that’s including the past,
All time is relevant to where in this multiverse you are
In a Kemptown launderette or heart of a black star.
The bang at our start defined the speed of time
A pre subatomic, a speck of singularity grime.
Its age from the beginning, is a nanosecond old
So forget the rhetoric, Plus all you’ve been told.
A trillion light years out, sits another launderette
But the cycle takes longer to the customer’s regret,
At the edge of space – time becomes weak
Each second is a year, subsistence too bleak.
With poles that structure time, negative and positive divide
Insert persevering washing powder add conditioner on the side,
The present and future – they are both happening now
So watch, pre wash and tumble as much dimensions would allow.
At conclusion my laundry; Well it’s all clean and dry
And of unfathomable concepts are cause to wonder why?
Defined from the start, to the very edge and finish
Easy to perceive as constant, but itself it does diminish.
When time becomes tired and the fabric worn out
Effects creation – you’re terraforming; Mother Nature no doubt.
We all fell into quandary, when time went into arrears
And pass through dark matter, for another billion years.
Not viewed by the eye, nor spied by the Hubble
A life prime of experiences, caught in a soap bubble;
The length of OUR time is fashioned from whence it grew
From the homelands of Rock Place, cross space to Nibiru.
In bondage to the clock, I will happily trundle off home
Soap suds and conditioner – through the drum did roam.
My time in the launderette seemed constant at any rate
But from place to place its length indeed, does fluctuate.
