Time is now but I said it then, despite "here we are" not "way back when". I'll go on and on and on and on, act now, act again. Think how I'm never and always gone. Sailing along they hit rough skies, the crew jumped overboard. The ship lent no hands to safety, sailors sunk to the bottom, fell toward the ground. Except four who washed up on the moon. They kissed the soil, cried for their loss and waited for their rescue. Set up camp and whistled this tune. I'm never sure if I'm in the right place, although I doubt there can be a wrong. We can only judge life from the watch on the wrist, I conclude we don't exist, or everything is always still happening. Atop a lighthouse, close and far away from the wreck, I spotted the night sailors alive on the moon. I launched out a rescue line to pull them in, one sailor grabbed the rope but stood still and stared. With the rough tug he pulled me down, with the lighthouse crumbling to the striking ground,. Then I found myself standing on the shore of a bright-white barren land with the rope in my hand. As I fell far, far down I became blinded by the wings of a lunar moth. It swooped me up to save me from the fall. We headed for the moon and picked up the crew, including my other self. I threw down the rope as we headed far and away, we flew on for infinity. To guide light across all space and time, I write from its back, lost and found in every clock's chime.
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