Time is the decomposition
Of life between birth and death.
Measured not in seconds or minutes,
Not by days and nights nor seasons,
It is known by how we see it,
A calculated mechanical representation,
Time is those special instances,
Those cairns we leave behind,
Milestones that mark our progress,
Memory’s points of reference,
Their panorama is so vast,
An overwhelming joy to behold,
Yet it seems in an instant,
They are gone forever, and ever,
For this brief flicker of consciousness,
We hold the cosmos in our hearts,
Never realizing that it is there,
We float on the bubble of eternity,
Every particle connected,
Every atom related to creation,
To accept this absolute truth,
To be aware of it,
Is to know thyself,
To know and love your time,
Your eternal instant.
©2011, Donald Harbour
Donald Harbour Poetry 
What an extremely beautiful poem, and philosophy. It resonates so much for me. I especially love “We hold the cosmos in our hearts…..we float on the bubble of eternity.” Truly lovely writing. I love your description ofyourself above. I, too, am making do living rurally when what I long for, have always longed for, is to live in a one room cabin on the edge of the sea and an old growth forest. For ten years I did so, gloriously, and so miss it now that I am in tamer pastures. I love your writing, so happy to have stumbled upon you. It was that beautiful quote on the blogroll that caught my eye. I shall return:)
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All the poems for WWP have such intense and varied reactions to time; yours as well. Very deep and much to think about.
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And once we hold the cosmos in our hearts, if we become aware of it, we must be careful not to analyse it to death and spoil it. I’ve been guilty of that myself. It’s amazing that time is continuous in both directions, but yet we are only aware of the present and cannot move back and forth. But perhaps this limitation is a blessing.
-Nicole
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Time is the decomposition
Of life between birth and death.
That’s brilliant!
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nicely done Donald
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Great last line. “Your eternal instant.” Superb.
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I’ll never think of time the same way again. We old guys appreciated how fast it goes by, but this is the best description of time I’ve ever seen.
I also enjoyed your form, and entire poem in one sentence. Marvelous. Oh, you missed a comma after “Every particle connected.”
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We float on the bubble of eternity,
Every particle connected,
Every atom related to creation,
Love that, Mr Philosopher! You write with majesty. Soon I’ll be floating off to work.
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Don, a very deep poem. Beautifully penned.
Saludos,
Pamela
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Time is personal. But then, where else, and how else would we know.
Thanks for playing Don! (flowers in the bowl, this poem is)
neil
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I really love this, especially the beginning. “Time is…” has probably started a double-bajillion poems, and most are rather cheesy. But your description is lovely and apt. Nice work.
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