Theme suggested by a close friend.
I watch the minutes and seconds
drift across the dunes of time and
realize my life is blown away.
The tectonic plates of months and years
have slipped across a hot spot of
final days, left only volcanic peaks.
Sorrow picks the lock of my future;
yet, you somehow shimmer,
a mirage on the horizon, an oasis
in the desert of time's geography.
Seeking perspective, I've climbed
the eons' highest mount to view your waters.
I will not thirst, saved by your river
running silently toward the ocean's expanse.
Poetry by Brian Oarr
Read 494 times
Written on 2012-01-28 at 12:29
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The Geography of Time
Staring at the contours of the hours,I watch the minutes and seconds
drift across the dunes of time and
realize my life is blown away.
The tectonic plates of months and years
have slipped across a hot spot of
final days, left only volcanic peaks.
Sorrow picks the lock of my future;
yet, you somehow shimmer,
a mirage on the horizon, an oasis
in the desert of time's geography.
Seeking perspective, I've climbed
the eons' highest mount to view your waters.
I will not thirst, saved by your river
running silently toward the ocean's expanse.
Poetry by Brian Oarr
Read 494 times
Written on 2012-01-28 at 12:29
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
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