it is not my job to help them up/

it is not my job to feel sorry for them/

oh, poor them/

it is not my job to teach them learned helplessness/

it is my job to teach them how to tell time/

what is time/

why is time the light/

it is not my job to instill within them a gravitas/

it is not my job to teach them how to marvel at the accident of existence/

it is not my job to point out to them what is sacred and what is ordinary/

sacred to who/

ordinary to whom/

explain to me what light is/

explain to me what time is/

explain to me the origin of gravity/

explain to me what night is among the ashes, the ambiguity, and the nuance of an empty desolation/

explain to me the sanctity of space/

it is not my job to skin their resignation like the gutting of a fish/

it is not my job to weep with them at the coming of today

it is not my job/

it is not my job to put our mistakes behind us/

alone and bent upon a floor of sand/

it is my job to dream with them an undreamt thing/

it is my job to show him how to move or rest/ being tired, the moon lifts him radiant/

it is my job to show him how it’s time that is the thief/

it is my job to escape with him/

all the fatal shadows wolf-deep inside the whispering of the woods/

it is my job to unbind the choreography of his feet/

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