grayness

now, tired is as tired does
not stopping "when" or "if", because
the line of sense is frayed indeed
and will not listen to your need

this world is woven up in knots
and clumped with frantic, fiendish plots
the line of sense is frayed indeed
and drawn in ink that artists bleed

have you watched the world of men?
have you stopped to count to ten?
have you heard the tick of time?
did you expect this line would
end?

this fate, our fortune, is unsure
and might this moment yet endure-
but the line of sense is frayed indeed
and pays hopes not the slightest heed.