by Leland Waldrip
Rated "G" by the Author.
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Partial inspiration for this poem comes from a magazine article by Greta Christina
Perhaps an existence lies outside time,
State of being where occurs no change,
Where moments passing are illusory rhyme,
But such is far from our conscious range.
No, for us, life paramount is the moment,
Slice of time that from the future wells,
To us conscious present is an event,
Passes, and in vast history dwells.
And in the passing we discover loss,
For never again shall that moment appear,
That perspective we hold dear or dross,
Harvest of meaning, or emptiness drear.
For inherently laid in time’s grinding mills,
Are subtraction and death finely blended,
Each new moment its predecessor kills,
It’s own death implied, by next is expended.
We can’t exist in a world of change
Without taking loss as inherent part,
How sky looks right now glowing orange,
Green leaves in the wind dance and dart.
Birds on a wire, feet grip so tightly,
People on the street scurry in haste,
Sun shines through sparse clouds brightly,
A kid on a skateboard, shoes unlaced.
It’s in the nature of having moments,
You never get the same one again,
And that’s a thing that makes sense,
For all the things we fight to win,
The things that give life joy and meaning —
Music, playing with children, dancing,
Reading, thinking, making love, preening —
Are based on the next moment advancing.
On time passing, on change, and on loss,
An infinitude of moments passing through,
Then behind us stretching our lives across,
Without time’s passing, no me and no you.
Death of moments is required for existence,
Alternative is time frozen in place,
Nothing before nor after, no sequence,
No child, no parent, no sweet lover’s face.
Each moment is precious coming our way,
Entrained on rails our future encroaches.
We devour each In turn at work or play,
Waste none for our last approaches.
When the last shall have flowered and died,
We marvel at the odds our existence beat,
For multitudes had no moments to abide,
But we lived them all, an incredible feat.
© 2005 R. Leland Waldrip
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|Reviewed by Mitzi Jackson
|like a rolling stone...when it stops
that is it....precious time
|Reviewed by jude forese
|Reviewed by Regis Auffray
|My comment won't do justice to this as it requires several readings. There's so much to ponder upon. Thank you, Leland. Love and peace to you. Regis|
|Reviewed by Melissa Rives
|Yes, this is brilliant...shine on!!!!|
|Reviewed by Zenith Elliott
|Profound brillance, Leland! Best wishes ~Z~|
|Reviewed by Bhuwan Thapaliya
|Leland..clap clap clap....very informative write...love n luck....BHUWAN|
|Reviewed by Erin Kelly-Moen
|A brilliant piece of work, Leland. Your flow and meter meld into the line structures, which hold the attention to grasp the meaning of each, creating a hypnotizing affect which digs deep into the mind. Extremely well crafted using conceptions of value and uncommon sense, and imagination's power to see what could be. I love this line:
"Each new moment its predecessor kills"
|Reviewed by Alexandra* OneLight*® Authors & Creations
|My dear, talented friend...
Apart from being thrilled to see you posting again, I can't tell you how much this "Momentum" set my mind reeling... **smile**
The other day, during a conversation about life, death, and time, I was pondering on the reality of the future... and my perception is that it does not exist, for it turns into present with each minute that goes by, and before we realize it, it turns into past. And... I probably shouldn't have said "minute"... for time is probably nothing but an immeasurable continuum after all, turned by ourselves into the finite reflection of our measurable breaths and pulsations of the heart...
What a fascinating, open concept you have expressed in such fine poetry here, dearest Leland! Thank you!
|Reviewed by C. J. Stevens
|What an eloquent search for life and being. Ardent and wise; soaring and probing. And incidentally, what a fine wordsmith you are, Leland!|
|Reviewed by Andy Turner (Reader)
|Eternity is outside time. Infact does time exist? It must or why do we age? Yet only man is aware of time. Yet if in eternity time does not exsist, which direction can it go?
Much to ponder on this most intelligent write.
A kinda quantum physics feel to this.
My head is now reeling with questions..ty
|Reviewed by M.Bennett Hooper (Mikii)
|Leland, my friend, you pen it so well and so beautifully. Excellence will be your undoing the last line is pure symphony to these aging ears. Peace, blessings and kindness are wished for you and yours.|
|Reviewed by Katy Walsvik
|I will use your word, dear Leland... it is the conundrum of life whereby we wish to never waste a moment, live each one, and yet, our most treasured times might be when we need do nothing at all... (think hammocks, porch swings or sleeping in).
Time may push us forward, but a sublime time in the past can be revisited in our heads... a window when the door is closed.
I do so treasure how your mind works. love ya back, katy xox
|Reviewed by A Serviceable Villain
Definitely "momentum" in this superp write - versed tempo so unique ... outstanding!!
|Reviewed by Tinka Boukes
|A deep and thought provoking write Leland!!
|Reviewed by Ronald Hull
|What I gather is that we are stars in our own 3D movie with no film to preserve the quickly fading past except our selective memory. We are stars because the probability that we are here at all is infinately small. Insight, wisdom, and instruction come to mind. Bravo.
|Reviewed by Jerry Bolton (Reader)
|Damn, Leland, you went out there and waxed eloquently for this little gem of a masterpiece. I would say that I am impressed but hell, I have been impressed by your slant on things and your ability to convey them for quite a while now. Beside, I just lay down your novel, "Vigilante Virus," for the last time. Impressive, to say the least. Will email later.|
|Reviewed by E T Waldron
|Leland, I love when you write like this, you are the master poet!
Such a powerful treatise on the moment and why it means so very much to live each one. Beautiful work! I have to add that another thing of beauty is that all things must die before they live again,so we'll be reading each other again only a few moments after death;-) ahhhhh the precious moment! Love, Eileen
|Reviewed by Jill Eisnaugle
|This is a very deep and thought-provoking write, Leland. Thanks for sharing.
|Reviewed by Janet Parker
|Incredible write about very deep ideas. I do believe there are realms outside of our own, but we aren't supposed to understand at this time. Maybe never.|