Where does time go

Where does time go

does it go, is our perception askew?
What if time just is? Always there.
Moving like the clouds, like the waves

Being always time, sky and sea.

What about us? Are we just living linear
or are we fluent too?
Always part of the Stars, the Universe, Earth,
living all the time.

Don’t let us limit ourselves with numbers and dates.

Live in peaceful meditation or stormy dance
in Love, always in Love.

With tears when they come and smiles of a child.

© miriam ivarson

T I M E / L I F E

T I M E / L I F E

I remember when I became Ten,
two digits instead of one.
The cake glittered with candles
I filled my lungs and blew them all out.

Making a wish to become hundred
and wear a big white hand crocheted shawl.

Perhaps I would need help to blow the candles out.

Then there was sixteen and twenty-one
not to forget the growing in between and forth.
As time flowed by, I felt sometimes it stood still
at others it skipped like a brook.

Plans fell through for some events,
replaced by a new surprise.
Life just is, Is.
Flying high or sinking low.

A journey of miraculous dimensions.

on Earth, through Cosmos it dances.
Magic beyond belief.

© miriam ivarson

I RAN

 

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I  RAN

Fit as an athlete of body and mind,
I ran,
faster and harder every day.
To reach and achieve, what? I ask today;

Stopping for quick breaks to see and breathe,
heather, the Sea, meadows and snow,
Only to return to the run.

It was fun at times but what about the soul,
no time for it to fully live, to sing;
No time for the body to know the breeze.

I knew but pressed the knowledge down,
Thought I had to run.
Until one day a shot hit my neck;
in and instant I crumpled to the ground.

the structure crashed down,
Now, the ambulance ran.

Against all odds I survived,
It took time, I learned new truths,
or were they the old?
finally getting space and time,

As I no longer ran.

A picnic by the shore, sensuous and slow,
I saw, really saw,
the sky, the sea and shifting sands;
The colour displays took my breath away.
Time didn’t have a meaning, just Now was life.

Walking instead of running, seeing wonder in all,
Like a newborn child,
I promised never to lose that again
even if I learnt to run.

I lost a lot that day but now wonder,
Did I not gain even more?
The time to write a poem in the morn;
Or listen to a frightened man,

To feel the blessing and joy of giving comfort,
of connecting with those needing support;
To find the positives born from pain.

© miriam ivarson

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T I M E …

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TIME…

So linear and confined
I am told,
and it does seem true;
Yet I think of all the skips,
all the turns,

the flowing river makes
as it twists and bends,

from its origin as a newborn brook;
down mountains
through valleys
weaving its way,

until finally it merges
with the mighty river below
strong in its purposeful flow;

Letting us be streams within
meandering as we go.

We calculate our progress 
in years and days,
following the calender prescribed;
Not the rhythm of the moon or sun,

Some panic, they fear the big 0,s.
I say, it is just another day and night,
if you wish, tell your friends
you took another stream,
so they have to wait with the balloons

another year or so;

Whilst we twist and turn, leap and sing
before joining ocean so vast and deep,
becoming part of the whole.

© miriam ivarson

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photos by Miriam Ivarson