It’s known and unacknowledged
like much that exists only
between two souls alone
and like all solitude
it’s broken by externals.
Yet, test what we can complete
with the light remaining
attempting to fulfill
what cannot last until
the beams extinguish.
But hurried hands and
harried minds rush
intending to make all
appear as it should
before it falls away.
Just one moment hung
temporarily but secure
aloft of expectation
suspended from hope
simply being and ending.
with little haste,
transformed into a
steadfast resting place.
after so long a pause,
weary limbs unfold.
Stiff as gargoyle wings they,
cautiously break their pose.
before wisdoms clarify,
in a darting glance
over the shoulder
fond memories blur the eye.
each and every time,
a thing never looks
so good as when
you’re leaving it behind.
Weighty imperfections bend my will.
Lower it to unworthy aims.
What’s the point of wanting it still,
when no pull on you it claims?
One by one desires shrink to duty
and cravings to responsibility cave.
Why cling to them tightly,
when I don’t deserve them anyway?
Hurriedly days rush to slow ends.
Uncertain if time stretches or stops.
How can I tell when moments blend,
if I use the sameness as a prop?
I am not the keeper of it,
though they say it’s mine.
Never has its possession been noted;
Not once have I stumbled over its heft.
It’s constantly measured,
With precision, on a universal scale.
Though I’ve never met its tallyman.
I’ve seen his henchmen on many a wall,
Spotted his disciples on numerous wrists,
So that they may display infinite increments.
Naught interrupts its flow.
Despite the metaphors, it does not cease–
Does not falter when presented with beauty,
Does not blink when confronted with loss.
Is not affected by feast or famine.
Yet it strikes down every individual.