We live in a town of clocks:

Eternity ticking

At the back of our minds,

Like a bomb,

One day erupts spinning from our hearts.

 

The hourglass shape of now

The present's narrow constriction

Channels us from past to future:

Each so wide open and easy,

Each one anywhere but here.

 

Behind us

The reckoning of history

Creates a landscape

Which lies

Distant, flat, dismembered;

And behind,

Tomorrow and all things to come

Slides their blank sheet

For us to place our hopes and fears upon

Like shadows on a wall,

So wide, so white.

 

For time runs through us like a river.

In blood, the seas of our inheritance,

Course with the rythm of the heart's beating,

And with the pulses of the stars

Those far, bright points

Echoing in the thin constant of the moment.

Hard pencil points of light

Apparent, precise, in the sky forever,

The stars mark the stages of our passage for us:

All our mean decisions, our meaningless divisions,

Seconds pushing at us, time imprisoning us,

And us measuring out our lives,

Spooning it out piece by piece

Into the deep well of the dead and gone.

 

How we long for some hint of meaning,

For a measurement of trust,

Yet our mainsprings wind up, wind down,

And for all we regulate, the world goes on turning.

For all we regulate, we degrade,

Turning divinity into a clockwork God.

Truth turns into masquerading science,

Knowledge into quantification,

Mystery becomes blank ignorance,

Joy, a moment's arousal and a lifetime's bleak desire.

Infinity is nothing but interminable counting

As we measure everything and gain no sense,

Our life is living itself, in this world

And the clocks we have filled it with.

Travelling in Time Cycle

Hourglass

Regression