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.