The Tunnel

This day was long
and behind it dragged
a bulky package:
a paltry sack of
rotten potatoes.

A crucial sack
that bothers the sides
of a tunnel.

As the day wore on,
striving through
to the forsaken end -
a light - 
a dull and
apathetically unaware,
perpetually measured,
constantly corrective light
in our retrogressive,
perilous universe -
winked with
intricate randomness.

The tunnel, of course,
is the fourth dimension.
Within it eras stretch back,
repeatedly, along its length.
Mirrors of today, yesterday.
Copies of decades, centuries ago,
each patterned
to the tempo of the date.
So, when the enduring clones
in middle of the tunnel
are studied
a noticeable difference
is observed,
accompanied with the
biting surprise
at the state of
that present:
Those potatoes are
ready to be mashed.

July 7th London Bombings took the lives of 56 people today in 2005.