the time you take
to collect and display
I hear the ticks tock
In the nodding of the hyacinths
you collect and display
taking time to show me
giving time to hold me
time
the first day
the first day
of the final month
the first minute
of the final hour
time slips slickly slickly by
until the final wish is granted
it’s dark already
it’s dark already
clocks must change themselves
not yet summertime
and time
and time and time and time
will catch us in its oily grasp
and hold us there unmoving
as people places memories all fade away
It’s nearly time
It’s nearly time, a tick or two away.
Tick.
Tick.
The language of the now
At the turning of the year
I thought I would write in the language of the now
in the language of the time to come
but then – and now – the past begins to breathe again
and stretches through forever
First sight
the distance since our last fleeting touch
the time between our heartbeats quickening
the night that falls to cover smiles
the sun that surely will come up again
Light arrives
Light arrives, no matter the distance.
Love remains, no matter the time.
Time, time itself
Puny mortal! You wish to change the very parameters of Time itself? There are things in this version of your multiverse that your feeble brain could never comprehend! Time is never ending, no beginning, no finality. You cannot change the course of Time. You are no Dark Lord.
[sigh] So shall I try turning the desktop on and off again?
Yes, try that, and if that doesn’t work, just pop in a support request. Have a good day!
At first
At first, then, everything was good.
You know how it is.
After the first doubtful unsureness
The awakening the unfolding
The relaxing and allowing.
You know how it feels.
But then later, perhaps one morning or night,
One weekend or absence, something happened
Or was felt to have been.
You know what it could be.
You remember.
Was it one or the other?
It does not matter you know.
The hairline crack of the heart never heals.
What? Time heals?
No, no it does not.
Time covers.
Time covers.
simonsalento 