Oh, time wasted!
If you could only be copied and pasted,
To neatly fit in my present devotion
To make the most of your powerful motion!
Swell, rich matter!
If I could only dispose of you better,
Instead of feeding your gold to survival,
As if success were my ultimate rival!
Time, life’s rhythm!
How could I ever be lacking in wisdom
To spend unduly, in manner offensive,
Your current currency, always expensive!
Bright lost treasure,
For years granted in generous measure,
Eternal flow of magical instants,
I’ll miss forever your fleeting existence!
Slipped through fingers
When action, tied by uncertainty, lingers.
When doubt, habit, indulgence, and fear
Have often made me betray you, my dear!
Hear my vow,
My patient friend, as I pledge to you now:
As greatest honor by me will be reckoned
Your second chances that come every second.
(After reading the biography of Lord Byron)
I don’t like ceremonies, madam:
They steal my precious time.
All men are rough since days of Adam,
And women are sublime.
I sense in you unuttered passion
That waits, like sparkling wine.
In most frank and honest fashion
I dare you: be mine.
It blew your mind –
But you were blind
And couldn’t feel a thing.
‘Tis thus a creature of your kind
Was destined to begin.
Since movements first,
By magic nursed,
You played with light and gloom –
The only child that after birth
Stays in its mother’s womb.
A ceaseless night
Traversed your light
Before, through human eye,
You saw your beauty, depth, and might,
And wondered: “What am I?”
You’ll have no rest
Until, forlorn and cold,
You’ll vanish on your parent’s breast –
A puzzle never solved.
What’s after you?
A creature new
Will start an endless span
And make unseen, but splendid view,
Reliving the big bang.