Saturday, October 29, 2005
The Frozen Clock
The ticking of the minute hand,silent,hardly noticed
Yet,every inching,to complete the cycle,
A gong in my mind,repeating,deafening
How time flees,from my grasp
Slipping through,like an elixer,
Ichor,much needed,forever depleted
What should i do?
How should i stop it?
Like collecting pure spring water,
Using nothing but a broken seive.
Throw it away?
Allow thought to consume it?
Like a wildfire upon a baked savannah?
For shame!
That is the coward's path
Revel in it,become one it,make it yours
For You are time,
And time is you.
-Paul.Victor(trying something new)
