Time passes, often without our knowing it… Today I made space to revisit Rhapsody of Art. My attention has been with two loving extensions of my writing Career… Writing Counseling and Mythical Fiction.
This growing work has kept me at some distance from my practice as a poet. Practice is about choosing to spend our time doing what is important to us. It is an easy wisdom to forget.
As often as you can allow yourself, spend your time doing what you love, what matters… “Dedication is remembering what you want,” a dear friend once said.
The poem I am about to share is about that space we fall into, without our knowing, when day after day becomes seasons of forgetting.
Time Only Knows
We all want old friends
in new places.
The comfort of children
as sweet as caramel
the clarity of a pilgrim
seeing a green-light in every apple
in every grove.
We mix ourselves with the eyes
of an old soul, a new love, tomorrow’s mistakes
tossing ourselves in a hash of fire
a cumin seed lost in the flour
we forget that once we had dreams.
Time only knows where it all began
the passing of time
a lackluster snow
peeling plaster of a ghost town
we find new coats
from winters worn
we seek to settle a home
somewhere in the drift of thrones
not our own.
Rhapsody of Art 