Time is not a line nor a road,
It doesn't pass by in equal integers:
It grows,
Swells,
Accumulates-
In small moments,
Gets caught in the reefs.
larger pools for more prominent moments.
Boundless depth in a singularity.
To see through the eyes of a dead man,
In a moment long past,
Forget the small,
Happy,
Tranquil,
Streams.
Waves career from the bigger ones,
Crashing into my small boat.
To be cast from the hull
And sink in the singularity,
Be consumed,
Drown.
A moment doesn’t pass,
It clings,
Accumulates.
Swipe at the water,
Seeping in,
Try and throw it out,
Before another wave…
The time we spent
Continues to consume,
It swells,
And dwells
In the foreground,
Always.
Time does not pass by,
It is here,
Screaming,
Just as it always has been,
Growing.
Haunting.
I don’t think that I can bare
To accumulate anymore of our time.
My lungs are full,
I have choked on the untameable mass of the lamenting sea.
Fawn and Sukanya Sinha Roy wrote a couple of beautiful pieces concerning time. I felt inspired. It is a bit rushed, but I don't mind so much.
