fleas never sleep,
but they can lie dormant—
days, weeks, months—
until the right host appears.
rattlesnake fangs grow back
if pulled and
the river freezes in winter,
but the water flows still,
waiting beneath the ice for spring.
though priests may retire,
can they truly step away,
or is it just paperwork?
some things remain in us, part of us,
forever, even when ink fades
and paychecks turn to pensions.
time—
time is unstoppable,
expanding like the universe
into the big and unknowable—
plowing us down or
leaving us in the dust.
but me? you can stop me.
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