Victims of time.
Prisoners of time.
We.
Each day, pacing through,
towards our destination:
somewhere.
Anywhere…
In our mind,
its importance rests.
Racing against the spiraling minute hand,
The moment we place our bets.
Along the way
we forget to ask:
“Where do we go?”
“What is this for?”
A question
inconvenient to most
once their foot
is out the door.
Better to continue on,
To finish what one starts,
despite the transformation
we experience within
our hearts.
What is time
but a construct
to structure and define,
make predictable
the world,
to streamline.
The tool,
long ago imposed.
Liberation it had seemed.
Marking the hours and days
for us;
creating a pattern,
for all to see.
Along the way
we became enslaved instead,
beginning to lose
our presence of mind
as time paced ahead.
We wake.
We sleep.
Fulfill our desires.
Looped in repeat.
All the while
Wondering how time passed by
while we drudged along on our feet.
Anxiety-ridden,
Haphazard and frozen
We wish to rein in time
Tame the beast of our creation
For whatever our heart chimes.
In tall buildings,
underground mazes,
across the sun
and moon phases,
It vows not to stop
raging on,
like a bull plowing along till it drops.
Everything,
a constant reminder!
The tick of the clock,
The movement of the suited flock
Trains come and go,
The supermarket counter flows.
It racing on
yet nothing really grows.
Out in the forest,
amongst the trees,
In the desert sands,
where the dunes blow in the breeze,
Time flows,
time stands still,
Like a roaring river,
a frozen waterfall cascading down a hill.
In the heart of nature,
man gave it birth
Yet Time now trickles to a stop,
its significance lost
as we reconnect
again with the earth.
Embrace the earth,
Let its essence
set you free
From the shackle
That time has come to be.
