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Time

by Steven Craig




Time.

The experience of a passing moment
A passing of a whole life
The drawer of all out memories
The filler on our shelves
The mold laden dust in our books
We try to define
To remember
To engage in
To be a part of
To be there
To be

Time
From the first moment a grasp
The sight that holds like a trap
The memory of the start for one
The time in transit for another
One knows
One realizes
One suddenly has purpose
Yes, reason
To live a life
To retain the memory
The lessons
The fruits of a deep inner well
That fills because another is there

Time
The freedom and the chain
The moments thought
The dreams endurance
The waking moment
The one inspiration that matters
The Day that is to the mind
What the night is to the soul
The music note
The piano’s key
The last half echo in the canyon

Time
The brings us to here
This is where we are
Involved
Breathing breath
Beating heart
A souls justice to hold
A life in balance between
A life strengthen because
A way know to the eye
A thought

Time
It is the passing moment
What was once
Now no more
Not forgotten
Only Unavailable
Not lost
But indeed, truly lost
Bearing the mark of its knowledge
No mortal will embrace beyond

Time
The marker on the wall
The wrinkle on the skin
The emotion of knowing the end
The joy of living the beginning
Time invested
Time poorly used
Time is the condiment of our senses
Long spoken of
Little understood
Never enough

Time
It disturbs
It reinforces
It brings the rain
It amplifies the sun
Those that moisten the skin
And slowly dry the remains
Soaring dust
Whirling oceans
Bearing with it all
Taking with it nothing
No place to have known more
Than where it was we were just then

Time
Expressed it please
A word
A look
A raised eyebrow
A wave
A kiss
A known look
A rambling voice
A searching eye
A sudden realization
A square hole
One buried in the ground

Time
Some fear
Some find joy
Some sense loss
Some seek god
Some know the devils grip
Some believe
Some doubt
Some hope
Some only stare
None have the forethought
That it is really themselves
That truly sense it


Time
It was love that we remember
It was the closeness
The honor to know
The expressed touch
The dream
The life
It was a shared point
Little noticed in the scheme of things
That really, really mattered to us
It was that little bit that mattered
Remembered
Treasured
Forever in a life
The one cup of being
That really mattered

Time
Was it what really happened
Was it what really happened to us
Was it what we now idolize
Was it was we now icononized
Was it what we took too long to know
Was it what we took far too long to believe
Was it what we had once uniquely in the Universe
Was it what we would want again
Was it
Was it really that
Was it really you
That felt it

Time
Not cruel
Not fair
Not one to favor
Not one to discriminate
Not one to flower unseeded
Not the last particle to discover
Not the last land to the seen
Not the last water to be crossed
Not the last mountain to be claimed
Not the source of anything
Not the end of it all

Time
Was it a name
Was it a face
The hand that held you
The arms that made you feel safe
Loved
Was it the voice that quietly spoke your name
A name listened for
A name that meant happiness
A name that was just a stamp
There on the letterhead
For a life that meant
Nights under the stars
Would always be enough

Time
We lost an hour of it
Just now
It is just what we did
With what we had
For as long as we could
With what we had
Here we choose to stand
Empty handed
Opened armed
Sadly isolated
Joyfully emboldened


And would do it all over again.








03/14/2010

Posted on 03/14/2010
Copyright © 2020 Steven Craig

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