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
photos by Miriam Ivarson