Empty Airports
by Odin Roark

Perhaps I was asleep,
For I was once asked to believe
Wealth was everything,
The quintessential measure of control,
That luxuries could stave off Time.

I'm now awake
And see no difference
Between Duration's myriad clock faces
And what they do.

See, there's my Omega watch,
Tells time,
Never needs winding,
Yet,
Like my Timex and Cassio,
Now in a drawer,
Packed away
Awaiting their own ticker deaths,
It too is but my companion-slave to Time.

Yes...

I've learned the hard way;
Time is Time
However way it's recorded,
High quality watch,
Economy style throw-away,
Makes no difference.
In the end
Their purpose merely leaves behind Time.

Had this car.
It ran,
But transmission whined,
Sometimes hesitated,
Like my "love" life,
My "expression" life,
Just wheels changing lanes,
Eventually exhausting the paved surface,
Returning to its essence,
Sand and gravel raw.

Used to fly private Learjets,
Now there's this Airbus A380,
A 21st century people-mover
Where eight hundred pairs of eyes
Peer out the windows.

With tattered paper map at my side,
My maturing eyes are rewarded.
Chronology continues happening below
The tiny dots of life,
Swallowed by the shadow
Of this behemoth with wings,
Floating across the oceans,
Racing the sun,
Reminding me and my watch
Nature's way can't be beat
Or bought.

I've crossed many a mountain,
Time's most ancient regulator.
Like a giant hourglass
Of unpredictable movement,
Mass weakens,
Rocks tumble,
Scree flows,
Sand become seashores,
Nature's unbridled ebb and tide
Continues.

But...
It's getting late.

At night
With the sun long hidden
Below horizon's edge,
I gaze at a star-filled forever
As I habitually remove my faithful watch.

Upon sunrise,
I'll fit the silver and gold jail cell back on,
Listen to the "click" of the titanium clasp,
Fasten the seat belt,
Feel the touchdown on a runway unknown,
Await the day's rush to arrive,
Use well the hours,
And try to outdistance Time.

There's something about empty airports,
Something hopeful.