PARADOX/SUPERIMPOSED
I have somehow superimposed time
over speed - a sensation over a blur.
Moving along in blackness, I sense
the trees around me. A Winter's morn
as this - hoar frost, a trace on every
window glass - brings with it a
feeling of all things being stopped.
I would not have learned the ceasing
but by the going, the doing but by
the not doing, the life but by the
death. This mad farmer, Time,
harrows on. I glimpse his world
through this icicular globe.
I have somehow superimposed time
over speed - a sensation over a blur.
Moving along in blackness, I sense
the trees around me. A Winter's morn
as this - hoar frost, a trace on every
window glass - brings with it a
feeling of all things being stopped.
I would not have learned the ceasing
but by the going, the doing but by
the not doing, the life but by the
death. This mad farmer, Time,
harrows on. I glimpse his world
through this icicular globe.
No comments:
Post a Comment