Now is not important;

Nothing really matters.

Your latest wheeze in shreds,

A whole month’s work in tatters.

This is not what matters.

Your ego is the thing

Controlling this charade,

And in a cowbell’s ring,

Lines spoken by a bard

Or low skies dappled red,

All timelessness is stored.

While close by, in the head,

A devil’s dreams are moored.