with and without time

I allowed an immersion in a moment,

a small form time with a long shadow,

and ponder the Sun and Moon of this stage,

the reach of this poor page carries a sliver

of that left behind.

I fret the un-holdable second’s fall, and yet,
time is the food of life. The steady beating of the heart,
the constant inner-logue of self-to-self,
a pure assurance of existence,

is a run-on glob of being until punctuated by time.

I am lost with and without time.

A bubble on the face of the deep slow river,

life is a fragile coincidence; the eyes

that find it amidst so many other pieces

of sky, wind, green things and water

is an even  greater happenstance.

Birthed from the death of ancient stars

a billion-age before the seas first rolled,

and now to behold a world of lesser miracles.