Timelines

Feel the glitter of stars upon your faces -
the sheen of timelines of distant races,
singing a storied tune cast in light -
a tune of millenia past, in our sight.

We are unknowingly swathed in their lore and legend,
bathed in their timelines' flow,
but need a sixth sense, an antenna maybe,
to decipher their crypt, decode their glow.

These races may now be extinct,
expired physically in their own space,
but their previous existence is cast upon us, in light,
though in time 'tis out of phase.

I guess Mr. XYZ of far away,
looks through his scope and sees,
our own light, our own past,
of dinosaurs and now ancient trees.

O' Light - you giver of sight,
you've set our clocks to differ by such,
that you've partially blinded us in our sight's imperfection,
made our present and their past touch.

Maybe we shall conquer you one day,
and observe our done from far away,
maybe one day we shall truly see,
and unlock our timelines' mysteries?



To Mr. XYZ of far away, I say hi.