The hour glass of our lives June 25, 2012

 

One tick of the clock

Can’t be certain

The next click will come,

Even when we know

The next is inevitable,

Why are we so desperate

To catch the tick

And make it stop

When the best

We can hope for,

Is to slow each

Tick down

So it doesn’t

Slip away from us.

We can’t live

Between the ticks

Until the ticking stops

Bound by

What once was

And what might be,

The past that shapes us

The future we know

Must come

If the next tick does,

To think only

Of what is,

As opposed to

What was

And what might be,

Only drives us crazy

Something

Incomprehensible

to brains

not built

for such thoughts,

just as is

our imagining

our ceasing to exist,

Even in the rough times,

In the dessert of our lives

We find brief

Spaces of green,

Where we can

Rest and resist

The parade

Of sand

That makes up

This hour glass

Of our lives,

And even there

And then,

We will still hear

The echo

Of ticking

email to Al Sullivan