I took a stroll on the edge of the world
and woke up lost inside a burning dream.
An ethereal smoke rose and swirled,
jagged clouds of time ripped from me in streams.
The sun now rising red in western skies
every thought inside my head, comes untied,
bound again to unbend where the truth lies.
The tidy-bowl man looks flushed but he rides
right along, keeping me in view, too blue
by far to be alone in swirling hues.
I have given up on the search for clues,
besides all those I found I misconstrued.
So here I must stay in temporal flux
while the tidy-bowl man and I hunt ducks.