This world
doesn't stop
or even slow.
To keep up
I must run
alongside it,
as catching a streetcar,
running with guilt,
knowing I am late.
However,
there is no timetable
that says I am late,
but I have agreed
to the world's sense
of time,
and forgot
that this time is neither
fleeting nor dripping.
This time
is my only possession
and even that
is an illusion.
To be here now
is the only appointment
I have to keep.
Now,
what is now?
Used to think it was important to be present to the moment, the now. Problem is that the present moment often frightens me, and I can no longer run anywhere.
ReplyDeleteElizabeth
clocks belong to the railroad barons. and we know how that's worked out for the rest of us.
ReplyDelete