The Changing Rate of the Changing Rate of Change

Nychthemeron. I didn't know
How it would end. Once it ended
I would have never been. To know

Is to experience. To know
Is to experience what names
Are to phenomena. Crooked.

Choppers hover over the lake
That changes like a sleeping soul
Spun by the body in a bed

The body finds no comfort in.
They're fighting fires in Valhalla.
Lightning strikes have candled the trees

That have been growing centuries.
Always fires in the wilderness,
And what are loggers or choppers

Or trees or ice sheets to the stones
Except changing rates of changing
Changing them, night and day. Change me.