I have been told that time doesn't really exist, and that beyond this present reality existence is timeless. Difficult to comprehend?
and in its wake is nothing but destruction
and pain and all the woes of wise men all the
heartache of mothers so all the wizened artifacts
once proudly displayed, are now laid bare to it.
The seagulls cry, raucous and extreme,
echoes across the deserted sandy scene
and save for the lapping waves is all thats heard.
Water retreating from muddy smothered soil,
offers no harbour for a Dove this revolution.
Rounded rocks ground to infinite dust,
beneath skies of measureless dimension
compute its passage in some algorithmic way.
And in the frozen depths of places yet unseen
are rainbows of its anticipated degradation.
When we are beyond its 'uncelestial' grasp
we're borne as dandelion seeds on air,
uncontrolled by its cold, embittered hands
and have at last the measure of it;
are ourselves unlimited and never ending ...
but time awaits us still.
© 2006, 2021 Griffonner
Poetry by Griffonner
Read 277 times
Written on 2021-09-29 at 12:44
Tags Time  Reflection  Existence 
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
INTERMISSION
Its measured path meanders through our lives,and in its wake is nothing but destruction
and pain and all the woes of wise men all the
heartache of mothers so all the wizened artifacts
once proudly displayed, are now laid bare to it.
The seagulls cry, raucous and extreme,
echoes across the deserted sandy scene
and save for the lapping waves is all thats heard.
Water retreating from muddy smothered soil,
offers no harbour for a Dove this revolution.
Rounded rocks ground to infinite dust,
beneath skies of measureless dimension
compute its passage in some algorithmic way.
And in the frozen depths of places yet unseen
are rainbows of its anticipated degradation.
When we are beyond its 'uncelestial' grasp
we're borne as dandelion seeds on air,
uncontrolled by its cold, embittered hands
and have at last the measure of it;
are ourselves unlimited and never ending ...
but time awaits us still.
© 2006, 2021 Griffonner
Poetry by Griffonner
Read 277 times
Written on 2021-09-29 at 12:44
Tags Time  Reflection  Existence 
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text