The wheels of time, –pushing, and eternally turning the universe are the boss of us peoples, whom, sensing the inevitable, strive to retire from the rat-race; and find rest (but few who found it). Each generation passes away before Him, leaving their towels on bloody towel-racks, never to be washed again; dirty dishes cluttering sink’s their edges, carrying the grimy debris from meals, served, and half-eaten last week beside a newspaper, now sunken in moody, blue-grey waters with no hands – dry inside rubber gloves of yellow – to minister to a needful cleansing and restore them to their rightful place on the empty shelf, impatient..irked! even, you might say, as the spoon runs away chased by the dish, oh! oh, and how I wish,WISH! it to be different, somehow, like a fish! waiting, flipping, flip-flopping aimlessly in a dish-strainer bathed in moonbeams under a clock on the wall looking down on the knife-rack, waiting, patiently waiting to be be-headed and broiled..on a shtick; and alongside a potato, placed carefully on a plate, thahh! that dish, dish who ran away with Mr. Spoon..too soon, –High noon! does anyone learn? ’tis but a poem, try to discern! Discern..Look it up! now you’re discerning. From Ezekiel to The REVELATION (of Saint John the Divine) the end of all nations must soon come to pass. Yes, the Indian nations, too! (yes, and their motorcycles). It’s true, cowboys, it’s just me; and it’s you. It’s been..a journey, pardner, long, long journey, waiting, watching and waiting; and standing, on the Rock: “Behold, I stand at the door and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and sup with him, and he with me.”, see? ~Revelation 3:20, –By G_d