Time’s pace, time’s space – poem
by suleimanharuna
Time’s pace, time’s space
Constancy is the essence of time, the vibrant quintessence
A pillow for the contrite mind and a whiff for the dauntless
Time’s a contagious feel of a material riot
Man-woman, black-white, plastic-metal, bone-rock
The green of the tendril to the glint of silver
And motion above the surface of the endless lands
Time’s a picture of decaying past
As fresh tomorrow looms
Even as the seasons wilt to breed new blooms
Time’s pregnancy gives birth to hope, fear and dreams
Yet time assures without bleeding oblations
Time’s money for the top dog, the underdog
Time’s the market – place of vogue
Time’s knobs make the rains fall down
Alternating yo-yos for taping time
Time’s a mega vortex for every clime
Time’s pace . . .
I hear the broom sweep
The chant of the old mill
And the bray of the dying mule
Are but ticks in the pace of time
Time’s pace is the length of the silent night
The proboscis of the fly
The journey of the gypsy
And the buxom tail of the llama
The relentless call of the mu’addhin
And the heartbeat of a patient long gone
Time’s space is a vacuum
Time’s a Persian rug spread
In the endless elastic hall
To stretch to unseen ends
Time’s a vessel, always chanting its presence
In the graying heads and the lapping skin
In their stoop to conquer time
They fall to a million atomic pieces.
