ANOTHER COUNTRY

The hands of the clock
try to grab hold of me

as I dive through
its tick tocks

into the depths
of my private time

where mere mechanical timekeepers
and paper calendars

can not  hold me
to account.

I abandon time
leave it far behind

free now
from this fragile world

of flesh
and bone

my very being
my own.

Memory is "another country
they do things differently there."

Here a second is
a century.

A moment made of
timelessness.

PastPresentFuture
collapsing into one.

And I a child again
for whom time

does not exist
only this forever now.