A sonnet of the past and the future

contortions of time and space

If one could easily imagine times
in other places -- distant magic zones
controlled by laws that make uncommon crimes
into quite normal acts, then ancient bones
could rise and dance again beside the pyres
of ancestry, and what was once thought true
would be considered false. Within the gyres
of galaxies where yellow yields to blue
as ages pass in moments, I could then
reverse my course in time and find relief
from crude necessitude, and as that when
occurred, the bastions of constrained belief 
would fall into the ebon core of naught
as I would seize the treasure I have sought.