We work at night

The air is standing tired
a strong white light pierces
it, but never encounters anything
such is the space we are in

Time is an old friend at the door
who must wait until we fix
what we will be broken to-night
because of that light hitting us

But the hours didn’t count the hours
it was a formality that stood outside
and the glaring lamp, it isn’t ours
but it prevents the dying of the light

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