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