there is something pristine and sacred
about a lack of time, an instant, a moment
that makes the crude passage look shabby
in a particular second you look happier and fuller
and the cinematic reveal overshadows what it is
that lacks background music. and maybe
the reason why the world seems so lackluster
is because we fail to acknowledge that even the roughshod
worn-down edges of time's brutal, eroded field
are more beautiful and sacred than a moment
for time takes all and bends it and makes it wild-
the very thing that can take what is tame and untame it
(though the very act of change is control and
control seems to tame, it does not, it flows,)
it works its will but it works with
for it is nothing outside of matter and space
and a moment only looks, only glances at the majesty of existence
a moment is there and then it is gone, lost forever,
only to be watched from a distant lighthouse
vaguely trying to find the way home through the fog
but time is, has been, and will be the entirety
of all we know- it is endless, confusing, less perfect
than we thought it was- and that is more glorious
than anything we can possibly understand.