We then, by rote undoings, cast our shadow in to the landscape of eternity, the needs of recognizance that sees the self before all; and there to remain until the next chance happening of Fortuna (X) spins out a new weave by which we clothe overcoat with layers.
Time the only passage to the sublime,
the one thing it is we have not.
It is but our gifts that we rule, when misusing the tools we've been given to comprehend ourselves.