Past, like green hues, waves,Waits, not uttering a word –It knows how words changeIf not spoken correctlyThough even silence misleads. But the past patientlyPrefers to remain quietBecause words, it knows,Are engines that hurry awayInto the unknown… somewhere… Leaving severed timeBleeding green, yet waitingFor hustling feet toTo pay heed to what the headSwaying backwards, tries to...