Wherever else we

choose to look,

the arrow of time,

nevertheless,

flies on:

relentless,

dusty and old,

coming from

from the days before

but still strong enough

for the world to come.

 

The arrow flies without thinking

of our loves and hates,

and our dreams and visions

of a possible world

yet to be seen.

 

The arrow never stops,

nor can we catch it,

except in those brief

moments of wonderment,

as we look in the mirror

and see it move.

 

Fly on arrow to

thy appointed destiny.

fly past our dust

and graves,

for you can never come back,

yet we see thee still.

 

29-5-2010