Minute-Metaphysics

Sometimes we feel the reel of it

In nothing but the ‘steal’ of it

Across the hill at dusk a bit

Or in the still of dawn

But often in the dream of it

We lose sight of its scheme a bit

While balancing the stream of it

With bridges we walk on

Sometimes we sense the slip of it

And try to drink the drip of it

While grappling with the grip of it

This Thing that disappears

But often in the thick of it

We overlook the quick of it

And how the steady tick of it

Turns moments into years

Sometimes we clutch the Much of it

And struggle with the Such of it

While learning ‘neath the touch of it

About both joy and strife

But often in the heat of it

We undermine the beat of it

And how the bittersweet of it

Turns years into a life

© Janet Martin