Monday, December 15, 2014

A Fast-freeze Free-fall... to The meaning of it All

What is this thing that steals across the day
With ether slightness none can comprehend
Yet tips the scales of youth to middle age
And grip us with beginnings naught can end?
It rushes where the blush of dreams applaud
But none can feel the torrent of its might
…and in the quelling of its appetite
It melts the veil that wafts twixt man and God
No scalpel can its medium dissect
Nor one speck of spent quantum resurrect

The wink of them turns hours into years
 And flowers into fragments on the brook
As through our clasp its essence disappears
Refurbished with the very thing it took
It fills dawn’s cup with dusk and dusk with dawn
It rends the heart but not the air life breathes
Its all-encompassing free-fall bequeaths
A silent storm of season-succored seas
In half-breath breadth it freezes centuries

What is this thing that leads, not to the end
But to the Great Beginning of it all?
It lilts in microscopic dividend
To that last eon unfathomable
…ten-thousand skies a drop within its girth
What is this thing that stuns imagery
 And whisper-washes ages from the earth
In tiny tick-tock metered symmetry
Ah, momentum of moments; soft you fall
Leading us to the Meaning of it all

© Janet Martin

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