
Originally Posted by
Mossdog
In the space
in the space between then and to be
the days stretch long
wind around the mind
locked in lazy clarity
obscured by clear reason
and the illusion of thought
coiled, coiling,
the cycle of time stalls, wavers
beyond any measure
I can see it all - yet stand blind
the time nears, recedes out of grasp
like lovers' opportunities
a falling shock of transparency
the thud of absence - a dull toll
hills, homes,
the mundanes of life,
even the trees roll by,
languid in their direction;
when will to be arrive?
the phone on the desk
the used mug, piles of mail
languish under their own weight
yet scream a harsh reality
that 'passage of time' - a shiny, cool
dark snaking tunnel;
above flies the sun
spinning it's way
unmoved, unconcerned
sunk in disinterest
carefree of 'to be'
why should it share concern?
and time, always, always
gets the best of me