It waits for no man. It flies. We waste it, yet we both spend and serve it. We lose it and spend it while catching up with it. We mark it as it is of the essence.
We break it down into bite-sized pieces because it’s more manageable that way. Days, hours, minutes and seconds are less scary than weeks, months, years and decades.
It has been around since before we were, and it will continue long after we’re gone. We’ve written songs, books, poetry and essays about it. We take it so we can think about how we can best make use of it.
And it keeps everything from happening at once. Of course, this does remind me of a poem. This is a shadorma [ shad-oor-muh ], a syllabic poetic form reminiscent of haiku and tanka; it is written either as a single sestet or a series of sestets, each with a syllable count of 3-5-3-3-7-5.
PASSAGE
Time whispers
breathless promises,
untried truths,
endless lies in passing,
then fades away,
not accountable.
I hear time,
a quiet voice, low,
urging me to folly.
I rush to my undoing,
so eagerly,
searching for more time.
Time returns
when I have little
left to me,
reminding me
of what it is I owe,
that it’s time to pay.
Of course I posted the incorrect form description. Should have taken more time.
My favorite “timely” quote?
“Time flies like an arrow.”
“Fruit flies like a bananna.”
Time is irrelevant – when you’re having fun.
And painful – when life is torture…
Kind of funny, ain’t it?
*#*
A good summary of our conflicting feelings about time!
Emma http://ideasofawanderingmind.wordpress.com/
And is also the only dimension that only goes in one direction – or does it…
Or a quote from a Rolling Stones songs,#time waits for no man and he won’t wait for you#