Go,
go on,
go and do,
go and be,
go and be done,
go and be done with it.


Stop,
stop it,
stop and wait,
stop and think,
stop and wait for it,
stop and think of what really is.


Tell me,
Tell me of doing,
Tell me of being,
Tell me how it all began,
Tell me where it all will end,
Tell me how to make it stop.

Trap me,
Entangle me,
with a word,
or a nod,
or a scream.

Tell me,
go on,
once again, 
with the same refrain.

Stop,
dead in your tracks,
walk it all back with me,
forget about time with me.

I heard a whisper once,
but I turned around
and nobody was there.

Was that you,
or was it my own longing,
stirred up by the wind?

Was it a trick of the imagination,
or can you tell me,
for certain,
just how real it was?

Tell me,
is the dream the better
for resembling reality,
or is that too much to share?