Don’t strain to hear the tick and tock
Of your lifetime’s master clock;
It’s ever as silent as stealth,
Like nothing the ear has felt.
You cannot see the powerful swings
Of its time sub-shredding wings
So hastening all along,
Still blending old with young.
But you must feel the seasons so:
Nebulous nibbling fangs deployed
On skin and gut and bone and soul;
They leave back questions – scoured out voids?
Is this like the drip-drip-drip
Of a leaking measured tank
Ebbing out to full deplete?
Or some ominous beep-beep-beep
Hastening to a starry bang –
Of a bomb on a timer’s leash?
Imploding, you choose, we choose
This dying drift against the will,
Tunnel-way to Heaven-spawn youth:
Our crippling pains must birth God’s ilk!
October 7, 2013
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, RUTH CARLSON!