Book 27 Page 14

O time

O time, must you always go from the past to the future?

Marching relentlessly in ever straight and forward lines?

Always starting at a particular beginning

and finishing at a precise and accurate ‘ending time.’

You seem such a fickle predictable character.

Have you not got other speeds and trajectories!?

For in my mind you are much more flexible,

and this all seems to be to me quite contradictory.

For in my mind I can swap and mix my times,

At one moment, I may dwell in the past.

I can even make you stand still,

Or perhaps; stretch you out and last.

But you on the clock, / you who spins this world around.

You just keep going on at a steady constant pace,

never going slower or standing still,

and never appearing to be in ‘haste.’

So sometimes I find it hard to understand and know,

who is the real and truest time.

You with your constant regularity /

or me with my ‘flexible mind.’