Veni, Veni, Emmanuel

There is simply never enough time.

I have said before,

And I say it again.

Never enough.

And I think somewhere,

I am waiting for when time just stops and the eternal hourglass' last grain of sand

Falls.

And rests.

And time has ceased to be.

What is it,

To transcend time completely?

Is it freedom or chaos?

Do we become suspended in dreams

Or do we continue on,

In dislllusioned madness,

Realizing that time was nothing but numbers

On a face

On a wall.

And I dare not

Say that time is

But a measure

By which we measure our fear

Of life.

And death.

It seems too powerful to be but a way of measuring.

As we waste away.

Emaciated.

I wonder,

Do the stars and trees know of time?

Do they obey the laws

That we humans

Govern existence by?

Do they move,

Grow,

Without care or notion of time?

To them,

I believe eternity is their only

lifetime.

And I know,

We see the indiglo faces

And the clock hands

And all seems lost,

Ships upon grey, angry seas.

And I know.

Time has too much power.

Over or days

And muses

And whims.

And we run it all out of our hourglasses.

We smash them on the table

Sometimes, they fall over.

Can we be suspended in time?

When I transcend the clock,

I'll let you know.

What it is to be without constraint.

In maddening freedom.

In chaos of peace.

Time is the most we can make of

It.

And yet it is all we have.

And all that governs us.

Humans.

Might I be a tree?

To grow my limbs,

Leafy and loftingly

Into sky,

Without time?

Clocks and hands.

I shall reach for my stars in the sky

Who see no time, as well.

And I think

To transcend.

We let go.

Of all we've known.

All the governs us.

It is personally anarchy,

To be rid of time.

Can we let it go?

Is it something we all must bear?

Maybe without knowing the burden at all?

I cannot say.

I am not so wise as the moon and sky,

Who live in peace

In space where eternity

Only matters.