‘How quaint,’ remarked Mistress Hora as she turned the afternoon on its head, ‘that you would consider time to be a linear construct.’

‘Positively post-historic,’ agreed Master O’Clock, nodding his head in perfect synchrony with the orchestra that played inside his ear. Today was Waltzday (or so he had named it), an interminable reminder that atomic metronomes particularly those of Viennese manufacture were not to be trifled with.

‘Be assured, my dears, that this fancy is a passing one and exists only as a fleeting extemporaneous distraction,’ our Mistress continued. The first year students breathed a collective sigh of relief. ‘Now, I want no clumping, no running ahead, and NO helical improvisation. When yesterday’s fish and chips come wrapped in tomorrow’s newspaper it gives our school a most unfortunate reputation.’ The class chortled as one. ‘Most importantly, please remember to take your pocket guide.’

I reached for my bedraggled copy of The Theory of Chronometrical Fluidity: Compressed Edition and wrung the pages out. I had failed badly at applied clepsydrics and my cousin Widget wasn’t letting me forget it. From behind the glass, I spotted her playing a furtive game of Gregorian and by the look on her face February was winning. I blew her a lemniscate to grab her attention. She scowled, looked up from her losing streak and giggled when she saw me spiralling in her direction. ‘Good luck,’ she spiralled back.

Miss Hora flexed her wrist and glanced at her temporal transponder. ‘You will be marked on cuneiformity, consistency, and rate of continuance. Now be off with you. Tempus fugit!’ With a flick of her bejangled fingers she opened the S.A.N.D. grates. I held my breath and jumped.

petals of the willow
vibrate with mild rain
as our approaching footsteps
run through them
coalescing in a magical scene
seemingly beyond a stroll in the park;
above,the crepuscular sky hangs
fake-looking,like a stageplay's backdrop
with a myriad of still blue's overlaying
one another
and the clouds like puffy scabs atop youthful skin.

I think we are slowing
down (perhaps,unconsciously to fit
the pace of the scene)
and I think our footsteps are mirroring our heartbeats,
I know Mine are
And I know Yours are mirroring Mine.

beneath us the willows' petals tremble soft
and I am glad
to be alone with You tonight,to belong to the park
together,forever entuned,
forever entwined-- if only for tonight.

There’s an emerging synchronicity
Kept in parallel worlds inside of us.
It seizes the perfect moment
To appear endlessly
In multi dimensional universes
To complement the actions
Of the entire human race.
One object can never be
In two places at the same time
They say,
But that statement confuses them.
It’s amazingly curious how come
We never consider
Even the rarest possibility
In the lapse of our short lives.
Our minds seek and explore,
Look through time and space.
Imagining is quite easy at the end
When we perfectly know
Exactly where to search

The rain welcomed me, as it was
I am to be thisgray day.
Unendingly unraveling, seemingly,
They are as the concrete, grey.
My roots, always reaching
The rich brown earth beneath,
Stregthen my stride,
As walking through them am I.
To where or what, I do not know,
For, discovery oflife is stalking.
Yet, I'll be in the moment so,
If and when, I can, I will fly.

In each day I pray to be that I,
What, where, how, when and why.
So, though the Sun's light is masked,
This night, that is their day, won't last.
As, it's direction, clear and bright, does
Glean through the clouded cover of their night.

Still, this walk that's walking me,
Is what reality is to be.
And while these flaming embers glow,
I'll walk this road with reality, so.
Yet, to you I do entreat,
If and when you two meet,
Will you allow for the you to be,
And not recede from reality?
So, that to this day all that have gone,
Leaving you this to carry on,
Will have their potential realized as well,
Let Evolution be the bell.

You were the ocean
And I, a ship
Gliding your waves
As my finger tips
Lazily graze at your surface-
Skin.
Our two bodies-
Of water and of flesh-
In harmony with the moon,
Pulling us with her tides
And we abide
So long as we’re synchronized.

Offer
your direct,
calm gaze
as if you
see my
potential
just as
I see it.

I've not
seen anyone
with deep eyes
read mine, then
seem to find
meaning. . .

since the last time.

Offer
my direct,
calm gaze.
I notice
you see
the loose string.
I see
you pull it.

I've not
seen anyone
with deep eyes
read mine, then
seem to find
meaning. . .

since the last time.

Their heartbeats danced together when they hugged each other for the first time.
©Sonia Ettyang

Looking at the stars.
Searching for the brightest one
But my eyes were closed.