But there was a time we were lashed to the prow
Of a ship you may board, but not steer
Before You and I ceased to mean Now
And began to mean only Right Here
(to mean Inches and Miles, but not Years);
Before Space has a taste of its limits
And a new sort of coordinate awoke
Making Time just another poor tenant:
Bearing weight, taking fire, trading smokes
In the war between us and our ghosts
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