april 2003

Days fly past.
I hardly notice them
until I look behind
to see them washing away
on the tides of time.

Wither goest thou, I ask.
They whisper not of the journey.
I wonder if those coming
behind me
see these days coming toward.


Do I warn them to be careful,
to observe and experience
each moment
knowing full well it is never to come again


or do I let it pass them by too,
knowing "someday" will come
and go
just as it has for me.



I believe I understand selfishness better now.


One I know of says
it is the journey
not the arrival.
Has he figured out yet
that it is nothing but the
journey,
that one never truly arrives.

an endless cycle of experience,
contemplation,
and re-experience -
a karmic wheel through
which we see this world.

The only limitations to this
we set upon ourselves,
the most vile and destructive
of which is
TIME.

You see, time does not exist.
It is an illusion of
clocks and counting,
the movement of planets,
the aging of DNA.

Were it not our desperate
need to define,
to hold onto,
to control
(all of which is also an
illusion,)
nothing else in our world
would note such things.

We damn ourselves
to note our fleeting,
futile lives by the
ticking of a self-created
measurement.


What happens when the alarm goes off?