There is a story, told differently with each telling,
of a man out of time, displaced
and dysfunctional, without tether.
He awakens somewhere chronologically foreign,
and the world he knew
So our hero struggles
in valiance or villainy
to find his place in this new world.
He finds he is still himself, but moreso,
as he grows, weed-like in a garden of weeds.
Unbent and undying, he belongs now.
To a now
that was never supposed to have him,
yet somehow always did.