Time is on my Side

Time is on my side.

The buds of spring appear before my very eyes;
the leaves spread open in the sun for me to watch.
They say the moment rests upon a razor’s edge,
the past behind, the future gone—
I know now I can carefully divide my gaze,
bring it to rest on that which came before,
and that which lies ahead.

A moment past the tight-furled buds held shut against the cold,
But now the leaves have spread, and green is all I see—
all vibrance heralding the spring.
A turning point.
Wherever you look,
whenever you choose to place one.
The sun is out now, and I have made it so.

Too many people fly from time,
or cling to thoughts impressed on them when they were young.
They fancy time a bulldozer which leaves nothing pretty in its wake.
But time is on your side:
Time is the medium of change;
Time always points in the direction of growth;
And all love exists in time.

The seasons and the days will spread themselves out for you;
Make of me what you will, for I am yours.
How cruelly we’ve misnomered time,
when all it wants to do is give us space to be ourselves.

And yet we run from time, and castigate our time because
it cannot change the way it flows.
If only I’d reclaim my youth, we say,
because now I’m getting older and the totality of things is surely
worse now than it was back then.

And time sits idly by, and maybe smiles like a mother—
All it wants to do is see you grow.
Our basic error lies in our perception of the truth:
Maybe all those coveted youthful bodies
just allowed us to fuck up
and fall out of trees
and live to tell the tale—
How nice us old folks have it, not to have to fall.

If only I was where I’ve already been, we say,
and damn ourselves.
Of course that cherished territory then was new;
of course you cannot have the same thing twice.
To try is to disservice you.

Time is on our side.
Its one-way flow ensuring that we never have to live
the same mistakes again, enact those
same dull memories, learn the
same lesson over, suffer the
same heartbreak twice,
if only we so choose.

Our attitude towards time is ever ranging;
The leaves of spring are here, and my life is about to change—
my life is changing.

This entry was posted in All posts, Fiction/Creative, Snippets and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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