Wednesday, November 9, 2016

The Unfolding That Now Is...

From this...

...to this, in 24 hrs.




Time’s touch is much too subtle
To be torn from its intent
To run or hide is futile
For its will is dominant

The earth is like a cradle
Where the birth of being cries
The earth is like a casket
Where the leaf of autumn lies

Nature is never stubborn
And it does not fight the hand
That fills its fleeting fortune
Then gathers it up again

The wind, ah, who can see it?
Or deter its phantom course
Its evidence as public
As tick-tock’s triumphant force

This place of transient holding
Teaches seasoned Chasers this;
Time’s touch is always folding
The Unfolding that now is

© Janet Martin


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