Time is no straight line.
It is a serpent
crossing the room sideways
like a glance.
Time burns rubber
careening around every corner
tossing irony,
like bits of confetti
into our pockets.
It dances in a circle
around the fires of desire
then churns out to sea
on a wave of kelp,
unraveling one dream
weaving another.
It flip flops
in crazy eights,
bounces like a rubber ball
on a hot sidewalk
reflecting all angles
oblique and acute
but always right.
At its best
time is a spiral
lifting us into our vision
and at the end
it shrinks into a dot
in the palm of our hand,
and with one breath
it blows us away
into the heart of forever.
.
© 2014 Betty Hayes Albright
Advertisements
I really like this. (-:
LikeLike
Thank you kindly! 🙂
LikeLike
You’re welcome. I always like it when a writer takes a unique look at things.
LikeLike
Beautiful image upon beautiful image….maybe time is our God…
LikeLike
It does seem that we revere time, let it run our lives more than it should. I like the idea of a dimension beyond time and space….
LikeLike
Time does seem to move that erratically during life.
LikeLike
It does… especially looking back at it.
LikeLike
Oh this is superb Betty! We create time really don’t we. I just love every single image in this lovely poem. Hugs xx
LikeLike
Christine, thank you! And I believe you’re right – time is mostly subjective. Wishing you a good week!
LikeLike
A whole bunch of poems all in one. 🙂
LikeLike
Yep – I had trouble wrapping this one up. 🙂
LikeLike
Managed it though. 🙂
LikeLike