Synthesized Instinct

Gazing ahead but well knowing they're blind
 Like looking for stars that they'll never find
 Synthesized instinct establishing drive
 Extending to nerves, engulfing the spine
 Catatonic, they think that it's real
 A curve in the Arc, it becomes a wheel
 "Minutes like seasons - a rush of air
 Inducing reason - but burning a flair."
 There's a hand that reaches through minds
 Probing far and wide
 And in time you will learn to receive what it finds
 A process sublime
 "It can't burn on forever, it dies.
 The hand, a beholder to see you through time."
 "Time? Time is a winding dial. "
 Minutes, seconds going by
 Glimpses, fractures, micro-sized
 Connecting the panes together
 The shades bleed and the cracks collide into passages
 "Sweeping the forefront, it works beneath the brain."