The face of time
A countenance of what is.
Long forgot is what was. Like dust from boot.
Too far is what will be.
Lightyears and nanoseconds
A murky macrocosm of what may and what could.
In my time
I have seen many things
A moment of gratitude for the oversoul who gives eternal life.
For all things great and small that amuse us while we trudge the mortal mire.
Among the chiefest:
Beautiful girls whose alabaster skin and molten lips belie a secret place.
A place where men come from seed.
Once a tree, spend erstwhile their time and seed.
Giddy with glee. And oft behave childlike from its glamour
Until stars align
When lights grow dim
Betwixt and betwined
Forming silhouettes of strange creatures
And they writhe
Heat from below
Inside the infernal oast.
A moment of ecstasy that ends in sighs.
Using time to decide if a star will shine under the sun.
Child from seed turns to man before i could count backwards from five.
And what is a mans measure? How did he tend his tree?
Did it wither?
If not then we have circumstances.
When you plant a seed that in proper measure becomes a tree.
And that tree plants a seed.
That is the moment hearts bind .
The sapling of third degree whose pedigree gives stark meaning to time.
In recompense, a bestowing of an endless font of the deepest of love and purest of joy .
Etched in the mind
To remind us that all is fine.
And what is
Is what should be.