The Nature of Time


When I spoke in youth,

freedom in desire and passion,

a yield within seasonal adjustment

kept the mind busy,

fascinated, curious, collective,


The nature of pain, reflective,

had little circumstance,

beyond the wood,

a trail, an exploration

of childhood memory just begun.

When waft in confusion,

the speed of change,

an embarrassment to the naked eye,

would call rite of passage to some

become a mark of travesty,

an ignorance.


Clouds fly by, skies awaken,

a sense of delight in desire, passion

begins some sensory sojourn,

a travel

yet realized only imagine –

fast-forward trivialized


broken hearts, desire in splinters,

now piece together


Solace is found when

faith allows forgiveness.

If when

that resultant fire explode,

if the arms of nature hold promise,

the incessant need for comfort

be less inclined

to overwhelm the mind.


While response to craggy steps

turn to mastery,

while infliction humbles the mind

we did step lightly across

trails of wisdom,

often sent to the ground

soil soaked knees

clamber aside river sweep,


stand again to react

to an ever changing world.

Sleep another day

as the changing world,

a clock where we measure


a freedom to live, to thrive

will perhaps be testament

to a journey still in motion,

inspired in love.


We are a passionate soul,

who often in mid-step

wills our direction

to question, to ask, to philosophize

a better travel,

a spirited trek through the dense


is time.

In the Nature of time.

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