T-28: Time, Time, Time, What Has Become of Me?

Rod had an excellent musing about Time today. It’s only natural to consider it on the one 23-hour day of the year. I said I would write a poem about Time, but then realized that the particular line I had in mind about it was a line I’d already written, in a poem. So, for tonight I’m just going to share that poem (though you could see it already if you read all the way through the Poetry page). To those who take the time to read every line and cogitate upon it, thank you. And to those who just clicked and realized I’m self-recycling, you still came here, so I thank you too. Thank you all, for taking the time.

A Part of Me

Procrastination
Five syllables?
I think I’ll put off
Pronouncing that.
Rather let’s call it
My peculiar paradox
My perennial problem
I loathe it
In myself
Think of all I could be
If I would just
“apply myself”
Potential
What does that word mean?
The dreams I’ve had
Are not those
Had for me.
But those
yet to come
Now there, I can
Realize me
All I shall be
More, so much more
Than that spoken
Upon the lips
Of peer-tied pragmatists.
What they see
Proves no depth
Of perception.
For this problem,
As they call it,
Holds me back
Socially,
I am unfit.
Friendly? Yes.
Easily known? No.
Chronology
Was always
My worst subject.
Let’s discuss
Ideas
In their true form
Holding to no lines
Fluid in their motion
Expanding, contracting
Opaque bubbles floating
In the atmosphere
Of metacognition.
Even now, do you see?
Ha! I strayed off topic,
My train of thought derailed,
But my thought
Doesn’t like rails.
And if you haven’t
Seen that yet
Then
Open your eyes.
Embrace your cosmos
For it belongs to each of us
Every moment a snapshot
And you
And I
Existing in each one
Of an infinite number
So there’s no time at all
Then I’m never late
Why rush madly then
At a last minute that
In one lucid,
Beautiful frame
Is always,
In all places
Sixty seconds away
And ever shall be
But so will then be
My adrenaline-fueled
Crescendo of
Lucid ectacsy
When yet another
Deadline is barely
Ever so barely beat
Then I love it
Love it, wrap it tight
In my soul, that
So-called problem
Of mine.
So I say to you, Time
You illusory stranger
If you are a fiction
Don’t tell me so
Don’t let me know
Because you and I
We’re not friends,
Never will be
But we need each other
Forge, forsake, forge again
Our uneasy alliance
That gives us both
Our being, our existence
If it’s true
If it’s real
For what it’s worth.