Contingent by Snooze

You are contingent on
An unfulfilled
Dot in time
Instead of final rest
Abeyance of
All you are

Call it time, and why
After all
This is
Goodbye

Goodbye to finding what you live for
Don't you try to atone

For what I've done
For what
What could I possibly have done to bring me here

This is not
What you have done
But is that
Which you have not

Who am I

You recognize your balk of understanding
That until whatever is unfulfilled
You will remain here; in all moments at once
Until you finally face your bitter end

And it feels just like standing
And yet, it all feels just like spinning

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