Cronos, the Present, is a cannibal king
gnawing at the bones of his stillborn offspring
and castrating his father with his pendulous blade,
the Past and the Future, his ancestor and heirs unmade
with his endless ascension to the impending throne
of Cause and Effect, this ceaseless Sisyphean stone
that grinds on and on, up and down, without end
and never settling for good, like a restless wind—
what a horrific king to devour his own young
until only he remains, a blasphemous emperor among
the shivering sandy wastes of the spinning hourglass
where grains neither fall nor rise, nor ever pass
beyond the fulcrum’s gyre, all at a strangled standstill
while the Present chokes on what has been, and what never will.