-- The Paradox of Time --
John Herlihy
The paradox of time,
Never enough, too much.
The infant cares nothing for time,
Still breathes the air of eternity.
The horizon meets heaven and earth as one,
We die; the road of life unending.
Children have nothing but time,
The joy of endless hours.
Of time there is never enough,
Similarly, there is never too much.
Just hours waiting to be filled,
With all their desires fulfilled.
The young adult always in a rush,
They run with the wind as sagebrush.
Time seems to drag in their haste,
For them, never a moment to waste.
They can’t get older quick enough,
Time moves along slow enough.
In middle age, time finds its metronome,
Settles within us in as a factor known.
The days given seem more than enough,
The nights enjoyed never seem too much.
It seems as if our lives burn through time,
Like a fire burning through wet wood.
In old age, time has finally run its course,
A life well lived will feel no remorse.
The raging fire now smoldering embers,
The aging bird losing its feathers.
Time, the stalker, always has its way,
Time, the thief, always takes it away.
- - - - - -
Copyright ©John Herlihy
Monday 16 November 2020
Share
Print
Save
Follow
Lately, I have been thinking about how I perceive time, like your poem. When I look back, I can't believe all that I accomplished in my younger years. Recent years seem to have flown by without much happening. Although sometimes my nights drag on when I have something, most often, physical, keeping me from sleep, the days fly by until all of a sudden I'm at the end of the week again tomorrow. While I bypassed many activities to give myself more time to work, I don't seem to accomplish things any quicker.
I think our brains are tricking us. Into thinking that time is important now that is running out for us. But looking at A Brief History of Time will put everything in perspective.
Ron