it is addressed thusly:
A vision.
it reads:
The time moves ceaselessly ahead
We think of it as duration, change
And yet we cannot find strange
What we know of our own tread
The same and difference places
The gestalt of new and old faces
If it had been we might know
No apocalypse dream can undo
Though we forget what we knew
We do not see the fast or slow
Footprints in the dirt, for not all
Is sand to human hand and footfall
As we note something we missed
Larger by ten than we could see
The track of some old monstrosity
Pointed toes, and then shapes in the mist
Of a scaled fish, dull and blood red
Gaping maw - the lord of the dead
But a crocodile emerges, tall as a man
He says not a word, but draws in a breath
And we smell, an odor of death
Inclining his head, do we understand?
Knowing too late, the sign of his tread
And the time moves ceaselessly ahead.

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