We've built the illusion that time is a circle - ever revolving back onto itself. To the place in history we were last year, last month, last week, last 28th. Transcendent notions aside we are linear. Carbon masses drifting forward. Our 'consciousness' teaches us No. Spouting off collective pronouns We become, Breaking down further We become I. Like sticks, blades of grass, sand. "I'll bet $10 you cant fold this paper in half seven times". Our approach to language breaks down.