We are born
We breathe
We eat
We cry
We love
We hurt
We’re hurt
We learn to speak
In ways elegant
And ignorant
We grow old
Or we don’t
But all of us
We die
We learn to speak
In ways elegant
And ignorant
We grow old
Or we don’t
But all of us
We die
While I imagine pyramids
And Pharaohs
Slaves and Gods
In a dreamtime
Of human greatness
And cruelty
Time is always active
Always present
Always changing
Only consciousness
Forgets
Or represses
Time is always moving
Cultures move on
People move on
I wonder why I live in the city
With its noise
Both visual and aural
With its go-go-go
And its stresses
Its meanness
And petty heartbreaks
I wonder this
Whenever I enter the idyllic
A place of peace
Where time is kept
By the movement of the sun
The seasons
Where change is driven
By the needs of nature
Rather than the pace
Of technology
Of politics
Of corporate commerce
A roadtrip is best
Without clear destination
Without a timeline
I feel it
Creeping up
From behind
Feel it
Entering me
Affecting me
But in the mirror
The effects of time
Are too subtle
Too slow
Is this the dawn of time?
Or apocalypse?
The beginning of life?
Or the end of it?
In this precious slice
Of time allotted
I record her beauty
With all my skill