How Time Beholds

How Time Beholds

 

Handsome time ticks by,

Not owing anyone or anything.

Carrying on its own pace,

Riding on sure and predictable wings.

 

Hands forever steady,

Ticking onward, ever moving.

It gives not up, though in instances,

One may wish its undoing.

 

But its striding, ever apparent.

Seemingly long legs scamper about.

Making its presence known,

With aging wrinkles it shouts.

 

With looming hands encircling,

Its bags are always packed.

Not a second spared,

Fervently on track.

 

With an assurance that defies,

All which are beneath its control.

For none on earth can escape

Its wearing toll.

 

Coming into the future,

Though it’s been here of old.

A constant force in a surreal passage,

How time goes… how time beholds.

 

Melinda McQueen Rodgers

July 5, 2021

Reviews

[Chris Shaw]

Handsome time. It never stops, it carries on regardless. Some of us would like our precious moments to slow down, but alas we aren't listened to. Others would want them gone in a flash. You have captured the essence of time beautifully. Melinda.

Chris

[Melinda McQueen]

Chris, thanks for reading and leaving your review. Much appreciated.

[Chris Shaw]

My pleasure Melinda.

[John the Baptist]

An insightful piece on time here. As the poet notes, one may wish its undoing, but wishes change nothing. Perhaps, though, in the highest levels of Being, time doesn't exist.

[Melinda McQueen]

Interesting survey. Makes one stop and think. Chris, thanks for reading and leaving your review. Much appreciated.