Parallel Time
By John Herlihy

Time’s arrow follows a trajectory steady, sure;
The beating of seconds reflects a heart pure.
Of time and its trajectory, we think we know;
Time moves forward with all the world in tow.
To look behind tells us the present has arrived;
The past does remind us that we have survived.

Of time and its meaning, we only feel its bite;
Time devours the moments with all its might.
We measure time by the scourge of its effect;
We age, mature, and grow old with no neglect.
Time is ever-watchful, never hesitates to pause;
The sun rises, then sets, and we know the cause.

If someone takes time from us, it will still exist;
The natural rhythm of our lives will still persist.
The day overtakes the dawn, dusk heralds night;
The seasons each transform everything in sight.
The pale face of the moon measured in phases;
The ocean tides display nature’s order in stages.

We seldom pay attention, as if we already know;
Time will keep on running as far as we can throw.
We shove into a back corner the reality of death;
May it never draw from the fullness of our breath.
Time, as we do understand it, eventually will end;
Our lives have limited duration, let’s not pretend.

How then are we to position the meaning of time,
How to effectively use it as a thing totally mine?
The answer lies in the concept of time as parallel,
A way to negate time’s influence so we may excel.
To shut down time’s trajectory, turn out the lights,
Another concept of time on track out of our sights.

Sit cross-legged on the floor and close your eyes;
Breathe in, breathe out, pause as in your demise.
Feel the silence without you as it enters you within;
Feel the rivers of our life blood course under the skin.
Listen to the wind as long as you can feel the hush;
Let the breeze caress your face as a painter’s brush.

Empty the striving mind of its unruly random fullness;
Draw all waking thoughts thru the sieve of emptiness.
Mindfulness awakens the mind when nothing is there;
The peace of mindfulness leaves little time to spare.
The moment has its own day from a place in infinity;
The moment gives itself away as it drowns in eternity.