Such a non-real thing. Can’t see it, touch it, stop it, taste it…
Burrs on my walk through a peaceful wood
Attaching themselves to my socks, my hems, my thoughts, my fears.
Pricking and poking my skin without care, awake in this dream, this dance wears thin
Tick Tock. Tick Tock. Tick Tock… and it begins
Again on the run, I will not win.
Don’t like time. I didn’t agree to this mutual agreement.
A necessary construct which anchors me here
An illusory device, I really don’t care
At some point each day, again at its mercy
I push and, chase and, ignore and then race it,
But alas in the end, in vain I fall pray to it.
The betrayal feels personal.
This non-thing. This masterful invention of Ego.
Punitive and punctual, emperor of no clothes,
To whom I pay homage…we forgo the soul’s courage
Offerings of pride and flesh and marrow and shame.
The game is fixed but to whom goes blame.
The morning bell rings a dark knoll marks the hour.
And in between… time…so little time fore we follow
And still we play and play and play…..
Real time 8:03am.
If I don’t hurry, I’m going to be late. I’m fine, but if I hit traffic, I will be screwed.
No time to waste this morning. I cannot be late to work. Never be late to work.
Head down, brow furrowed, willing the road ahead to be clear.
I’m zooming alongside the ocean and this is what I see…