You have all the time
You may invert my time
You may circle my time
You may circuit my time
You may circumvent my time
You may split my time
You may sell my time
It is the sum of my thoughts
It is the sense of my tropes
It is the metric of my madness
It is the method of my mind
There may be logarithms of time
There may be algorithms of time
There may be rhythms of time
Yet there is turbulence
That transcends time
That triumph over the time
Yet there are reflections
That recoil the tyrants of time
That reserves thoughts beneath
Yet there are epochs
That ensemble in the ephemerals
That permeates the perennials
We will meet you in the myriads
We will mince your time tyranny
We will maze your time tropes
In the epochs of ephemeral ensembles
