Oculus

A strange dance
Tied to the knives of fate
An aperture to advance
I see it twist

Expanding
Contracting
Refraction minutes behind
You'll never see the present
Only 255 milliseconds behind
Perhaps a little less
But the lag
Is ever-present

Perspective in Perpetuum
An epoch of sand
That sifts through the hand
Into the meaningless void
The heat death of all

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