All-time is an all-space you can see,
Like a stretch of Rocky Mountains.
Alltime is your spaces strung together
As if in a single white vertical wall.
Alltime is moments strung together
You are trapped in like the ladybugs
Trapped in a paperweight’s amber
Sitting on top of paper against wind.
We are individual ladybugs trapped
In a separate amber of the moment.
(Notes on Kurt Vonegut’s Slaughterhouse 5)