I said, "I dreamed last night of an inchworm
measuring the distance of our suffering."
She said, "Distance times time equals
the speed at which things fall apart."
I asked, "Do you think creation could
have been made any other way?"
She answered, "In the space we inhabit
change only happens at the edge
of where chaos and order frolic."
I asked another question, "Don't take
this the wrong way but can I have
the next dance?"
She replied, "Only if you fondly promise
to promenade with me all the way down
the corridor of time."
A Thread You Follow 