time is come

a conscious sum, made at capacity:
whatever can be held in true vivacity,
the extents and the limits of me,
extruded through grating eternity
into an infinite space, uncertain,
aloof, my heart's truth, fervent
with paradox of criminality denied
yet sought, the trespass of physics
unwound, and physics applied,
then shatter the weight and the yoke,
the gravity into smoke that holds
my hands bound by physicality:
time is come.