There were the sharp black peaks upon white walls, <br />And plunging valleys, groanings on the floor, <br />Exciting lengths of tape, long-distance calls, <br />Dreams, fears, despair and change. That was BEFORE. <br />There were high windows, small beneath the sky, <br />Deep was the shasm with its gray built wall. <br />Dots parabolic hypnotized the eye <br />Fearful to see the red-stained, shattering fall. <br /> <br />AFTER crept slowly in; the peaks grew soft, <br />Less varied, much eroded by long laws. <br />Short grew the line from bottom to aloft. <br />The days hummed steadily; time did not pause. <br />One constant held its place; The new safe god <br />Inspired the sacrifice of sudden leap; <br />But low-roofed openings and gentle sod <br />Prevented bloody entrance to The Sleep. <br /> <br />We found a loop-hole, you and I, a space <br />Enough to squeeze through with our little spade. <br />Past matted vines we watch the human race <br />Run on the clear straight road that has no grade, <br />See dots accelerate and stay the same... <br />We dig out roots and eat the flower seeds, <br />And sing old lays, and sometimes play a game <br />Of chess, with pebbles and my broken beads.<br /><br />Agnes Clark<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/friday-time-divided/
