A Poem on Time
A poem by Jane
to be unnecessary.
ask the trees,
ask the rocks.
Time passing is the changing of the seasons,
the changing of light, of direction.
When much time has passed,
an evident change of growth or of destruction is perceived.
time is only change.
But as perceived by whom?
“Time” means nothing.
It is a tool constructed by man to comprehend change,
to count change,
to quantify change.
It becomes tangible that way;
it becomes a pillar of our lives… time.
And when it’s tangible and comprehensible we allow ourselves to fear it.
It lies outside of the irrational fears box.
We allow this fear to permeate our lives.
I don’t have enough time.
I’ll do it tomorrow.
Time is of the essence.
I would if I had time.
You have time.
We all have time.
Because the truth is, time isn’t something to be had.
It explains our past experiences in words and numbers
and helps us understand the coming future in quantifiable terms.
Yet time is not real.
We cannot allow ourselves to fear something that is not real.
When the sun shines,
move, grow, change.
When the earth turns away from the sun, rest easy and well.
Seasons will change, trees will grow..
we will grow too.
Everything alive will follow the sun.
Until one day, our time will be up,
and we will move on,
and everything else will continue to grow and to change
and to pass the time following the sun.