How often does it happen that time reaches beyond time
Into the yawning, toothless maw of the infinite
Where there is no now, no then, no tomorrow
Into that place where all timepieces explode in their confusion,
And all being does, also?
How often does life betray life?
Worse yet, making ourselves the culprit of this betrayal
I am an other: Judas
Impossibly kissing my left cheek
Impossible to turn my right to myself, such that it may receive my love
I had a dream last night
I met myself many years along, coming down the road
Mythical was this meeting,
Or so its potential could have been but failed to be
I approached myself, swift sword of time on my side,
Taunting all the way
“So there you are old man.
Prove yourself worthy of such a fine piece of steel,
Fashioned no doubt from the hand of a clock.
I beg not for a swift end.
After all, I see that my old self has become no less than a crippled infinite mirror than he who issues you this challenge.”
Alas, there was no twang of steel unsheathed
Merely the laughter, no laughter, of the myself having eaten the bitter fruit of time, or life,
What, after all, is the difference?
“Slay yourself and why;
To save you of this all-present stench of decay?
You think yourself so much better than I?
I at whom you gaze with such yearning who is no Other than I, but what you will be I can well attest: betrayed by time?
Forsaken by yourself? Revel in our decomposition, we will as time may dictate.
Soon enough, you will know yourself as Judas, only.”