Slipping by

Trying to hold back time. My hands cleaving to the hour hand. “Stop!” I said to the clock. As if time would listen to me! I pulled and pushed. I swung and swayed. But the ticking never stopped. It would never cease. A full revolution complete and another moment gone by while I wrestled the arms of unswerving devotion to the art of measuring spaces in life. A monster created by the absence of longing and with the commiseration of Father Time.

Stepping back to re-evaluate:

what time has taken
what time has lost
what time has created
what time has cost

I came to the conclusion that time was my enemy and, in an ironic twist of universal fate, my friend. I’m looking at you, Time. I’m watching you now as you watched me. I’m growing again and flowing again and sowing again and deep, deep down, I count the spaces you’ve filled.

© The Drummer Poet
Written : 24/04/2012

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