What Is Time... That You Speak Of It So Subserviently? Are We To Be The Slaves Of The Sun, That Second-hand, Overrated Knob Of Gilt, Or Of His Sister, That Fatuous Circle Of Silver Paper? A Curse Upon Their Ridiculous Dictatorship!

-Mervyn Peake

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What Is Time... That You Speak Of

Mervyn Peake

What Is Time... That You Speak Of It So Subserviently? Are We To Be The Slaves Of The Sun, That Second-hand, Overrated Knob Of Gilt, Or Of His Sister, That Fatuous Circle Of Silver Paper? A Curse Upon Their Ridiculous Dictatorship!

Topic

Time

Hands

Circles

Through Her, In Microcosm, The Wide Earth Sobbed. The Starglobe Sank In Her; The Colours Faded. The Death-dew Rose And The Wild Birds In Her Breast Climbed To Her Throat And Gathered Songless, Hovering, All Tumult, Wing To Wing, So Ardent For Those Climes Where All Things End.

Wings

Rose

Bird