an unlikely analog
I am not what I seem
a broken clock on a shelf
stuck at 11:19 and 19 seconds
it matters not if it’s morning
or night
the broken do not know
the difference
and if they tell you that they do
they are liars
when time abruptly stood still
I learned to walk about
without having to use my legs
spending hours inside the cathedral
deciding which station
I loved the best
and hated the most
[impossible
I would tell myself
for without time
there can be no hours]
I once believed they were
angels
communicating with me
in a language of vibrations
one I learned to comprehend
all on my own
but now
I am not so sure
november two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 
Be sure. The angels wings are brushing you, making you, the brilliant you!
Thank you for commenting on this piece, Cindy.