Tag Archives: Time
Time drifts away,as mist fades on the mountain.The world itself is hardly more real.The living waters springingfrom life’s fountain run dry,leaving discarded bonesbleaching in the sun. There is no moleculebut strives to be the whole(or if it can’t encompass that, … Continue reading
Man invents and Man becomesthe slave of his invention –Time-clock invention.Maintenance and breakdown.Marriage the chains of Marital Fidelity.Governments and the lawsof taxes and repression.Medical Science and the slaveryof Pharmaceutical Propaganda.Money. Clothing, the Tyranny of Brand Names,clothing factories for Indian children.Agriculture … Continue reading
“Oh Life! Thou Nothing’s younger Brother!So like, one might mistake Thee for the other!” (Oh Death! Thou Sleep’s forgotten Mother!So gentle, one might mistake Thee for the other!) “Eternity is in love with the products of Time.” (The Sun shinesin … Continue reading
The happiest oldhave nothing and don’t mind.The happiest youngare old before their time.Few these. The others are behind their years,suffer thirteen-year-olds’ fearsinto their twenties,and in their fortieshave appetitefor sins of twenty. But not the bite. .
A SHELLa big shellon a warm sand shelfbuilding long and strongout at last kept out. TIME to decidewhat’s insidefor inside meditationfor contemplation.Any answers? A SKULLa big skullwith a warm snug selfbuilding long and strongto keep out out. EYE, ear and … Continue reading
A boatafloaton the streamof time. On either bankthe dream;a banquet for the senses.A blazeof colour and livingnessof music and messagesto tempt and amaze;enticements and instant memories;the enchanting voiceof the serpent. Afloaton the streamfrom nowhereto nothing. .
The pulling string,which is Time’s tether,bringsand bindsall thingstogetherin the contoured galleries of our minds. Piaf has been deadthese thirty years or moreand yet her voice is boughtand sold in any CD store. Yesterday and tomorrow,mingled joy and sorrow,are raw material … Continue reading
People differ in awareness of Time.Brazilian Indians have no word for tomorrow. Time is the measure of thingsmoving through space.Where there is nothing moving,not even thoughts,there is no awareness of Time. When a dog sees you after a gap of … Continue reading
Leaves from the Tree of Life;brown and withered,dried with growing old,dislodged by the touch of Time;or green,with veins still swellingwith rising sap,torn free by an untimely wind. What are they,these dancing treasures? The more the tree creates,pushing and buddingout of … Continue reading