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Odin odin@aflx.com, click here
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Some prosetry unpacking, a short story hoping to find with time that vagaries will fade, wisdom will appear.
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...
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
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budd