Thought About Time - a poem by John B. Moss

Thought About Time

Rushing away, the years are departing,
leaving me standing alone with my thoughts;
friends passing by as the passing wind blows,
whirled past in wisps of good-natured cheer
and now that the years have slipped by and left me
I wonder about things, things left to do, dear.

Saying goodbye seems like forever,
forever seems like a long long time.
Time was once something I never,
ever, thought about, about time.

Brought into this world crying and kicking,
I grew up and into myself, notwithstanding
a lack of all knowledge of what I might be,
and as it so happens the growing still happens.
And yet, the lesson of what might be, might be
lost in the rummage of things left behind me.

Rushing away, the years all but gone now,
giving me pause for some thought today.
Today for me now/then is read by you, then/now,
many the minutes and hours held sway,
but ~ draw now this line that connects us,
this reading, and capture our moment, today.

The difference between us, my very good friend,
is not that we live in different spheres, no
not that I was and now that you are, friend;
the difference is I know not of your coming,
Yet you know now of my temporal presence,
And the depth of the time that we both do share.

I can reach back and shake hands with my past
for I know where I've been and what has been said
but you, my dear friend, lie somewhere before me
somewhere beyond the world that I ken
and such is the nature of life as I know it
That I must accept what the future portends.

And so I give you the little I have, now,
A thought so ambitious I coil back in fear
Because I suppose that you, as you read this
are raising your eyebrow in skeptical sneer
But be not alarmed for I bear no ill will
but rather a gift that should bring you cheer.

The worst fears I've faced in my brief time allotted
have all come for naught, and I share with you now
in this moment we share, that what lies before you
is something for which there is nothing to dread;
All of life's meaning and mystery are foundless,
Plan only for good things, and good things portend.

Rushing away, the years are departing,
leaving me standing alone with my thoughts;
friends passing by as the passing wind blows,
whirled past in wisps of good-natured cheer
and now that the years have slipped by and left me
I'm thankful we've had this time to share, dear.

John B. Moss
© 05/24/2007 - 2008

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