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Time

 

I heard a thing the other day that made me stop and think,

About the past and time and how my days pass in a blink,

How when we're young and years before us appear a distant place,

But looking back it seems as though we've not begun the race.

We get confused about it, what it is and how it works,

As though it were like wealth or grains of sand or where fate lurks,

We cannot hold or quantify it, though we try to, its an illusion,

Time is simply parallel events in their multitudinous profusion.

          Robert Clive, our nations hero, a man who new no fear

          Died in seventeen fourty four, his tortoise just last year

 

Because some things re-occur in persistent regularity,

They are used as a reference, to perceive a random story,

So as to know when past and future events can be related,

On timelines histories compared and events ahead predicted.

The marine organism called a Gastrotrich, to us its life is short,

But with no memory to speak of, it gives time little thought.

Birth, life and death all passing-by in three short days,

While Aidwaitya the tortoise may hardly have begun its weekly graze.

          Robert Clive, our nations hero, a man who new no fear,

          Died in seventeen forty four, his tortoise just last year.

 

When life and death depended on the cycles of the earth;

When to plant, water, reap, or celebrate new birth,

A day here, a day there, may not have really mattered,

No catching seconds on motorways all stressed out and battered.

Time is how we perceive it, either in seconds lost or gained,

Or in the timeless creative process, extended and retained,

The race to reach the next event, never satisfaction find

Within the fabric of our hearts and memories of our mind.

          Robert Clive, our nations hero, a man who new no fear,

          Died in seventeen fourty four, his tortoise just last year.*

 

*Written in 2007

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