Kit Kelen - #395 - time (a meditation on what's lost)

395

time

a meditation on what's lost

all that which is dearly departed

must have slipped by somehow

like a noose over

push up

bucket connects

never the one event

you wish the damn thing would run down

it's only measurement gravity drags

like limbs to next engagement

let the compost darken

to next year's crop

let's be soil ourselves

from one week to a next

ye know not

the music runs on

and the parcel is passed

be carnival

be Bachanal

it won't catch up with you

but the mask dissolves to hours

this is the wheel on which you break

quickly quickly catchee

here are the rosebuds

here's the sun setting

snarling thing

and it rounds on you

the grass grows over

just thinking of it

just how pointy?

grimace for a needle

lean into the bends

time gives you the treatment

it has a signature you know

the asteroids make meteors

we each become a map to read

less of the journey to make

no respecter of age or beauty

the cars keep flying off the track

gravity is time's pet

a cough becomes a new career

a cruel interrogation

and in the end most will say 'rosebud'

though some are silent to the grave

and some first learn it there

pens down!

then we're well tucked in it

and one day might be found