Time walks away from me.

All at once like a gasp.

 

Sometimes it runs, swiftly,

like the snow.

Caught up in its mesmerizing images I

let fall its leash from my fingers.

 

It slinks like the light through the night

jumping from star to star

until I am left staring simply at

history in the ink sky,

telling stories of ever-gone years

leaving traces like the wind.

 

I see depictions of God;

it is with me then

And just as quickly it is the

simple motivation

a mausoleum to hope and desire

 

A gravestone in the ocean

fading, crumbling,

waiting to be discovered, and

just as quickly and just as much,

to fade.

 

Ode to he who frets not over Thyme

its leafy ways and scintillating hideouts

entrap like a maze,

watch me, it speaks, spin stories

fight me, it dares, and we do,

endlessly.

 

I cry to see I

and it

standing on the hill alone,

only one walking towards the sea.

 

And yet I am resolved to its disappearance.

I know not Time’s ways.