-- In the Silence of Time –

John Herlihy

The broad expanse in the rhythms of the sea

The luminous reflection of sunlight upon the sea

The vast sea of sky that overhangs the heavens

The air bespeckled with the radiant dust of the sun

The lip of the horizon meets the kiss of the heavens

Nature unites to create a paradisal earthly panorama

We pass them by; we do not live in these things

The silence of time never utters a peep,

No echoing rhyme thru a crack to seep.

Measured diligence thru orbiting spheres,

Calculated exactitude of months and years.

No whisper of a minute, breath of an hour,

Only silence reigns, giving time its power.

Dawn arrives to the sound of absolute hush,

While twilight descends with its crimson blush.

The day arrives without any trumpet fanfare,

While night creeps on silent paws as we stare.

No sweet nothings to listen to and be heard,

The earth orbits the sun but nothing stirred.

Even eternity conjured up in a rush of wind,

Bubbling brooks, songbirds on hearts pinned.

Earthly time ever silent, never utters a word,

Entire centuries pass by as if nothing occurred.

I count out loud my midnights and my noons,

But time ever silent whether new or full moons.

Time plies on life’s loom without making a hum,

Stitching us into its tapestry without a note sung.

No soothing words to relieve our aching hearts,

No breath of comfort as night and day departs.

Time simply walks through us on its padded feet,

Our lives a specified journey our Maker to meet.

Time has no living estate and I am not its heir,

When it comes to an end, I have nothing to bear.

Time in its hands the minutes and hours to hold,

The young will take my place, as I slowly grow old.

Death’s door on silent hinges never open or closed,

Time waits for no one and can never be opposed.

Time a deaf mute that neither speaks nor listens,

At night on a starlit face, profound silence glistens.

We make a covenant with time our days to fill,

A sacred trust that we are compelled to fulfill.

We a shadow passing until time has its final end,

To again be outside time as if we had never been.

As we speak of such things, time in silence flees,

In the evening of our lives, we fall on our knees.

Time, ever the silent thief, makes its great escape,

While we an account of our lives must now make.

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Copyright © John Herlihy

Monday 7 March 2022