Time

March 7, 2023

This poem is in English only.

Time always gets ahead of me.

I didn’t seize yesterday,

today is too late, what a delay,

and tomorrow won’t let me be

fully aware of my decay.

Now isn’t now anymore,

what was isn’t what it’s for,

as my thought is obsolete

by the time it appears complete.

What then is duration’s core?

Flow as that of a mountain stream,

linear though it may seem,

divides or connects branches,

parallel is the true scheme

looping as now approaches.

Memories, writing and sacrifice

to past and future reach,

overarching every vice

in the present us to teach,

that there’s a six on every dice.

Thus gamble meets the destiny,

our choice throws options to roll

and opens destiny’s loophole,

yet ties the lines of eternity –

double sided version of infinity.

Infinity is way too large,

it’s hard to know where to start,

how the inevitable to overarch,

since relative is bound to last

and ephemeral is always vast.

There is constancy of speed,

still, I feel the pressing need

to slow down arbitrary ticking

and skip to the silent feeling –

motionless, out of time, freed.