Measuring the Hours
I’m counting all my seconds;
Measuring the hours,
Watching crows pick corpses
From ivory towers.
Up weighing up the meaning;
Sorting the purpose
Not making any progress.
Everything’s perverse.
Trapped in this machine
Turning everything to dust.
Wading through the motions
Doing what I must.
I’m packing in the meaning
Looking here and there.
Creating whirling dervishes.
Stirring up the air.
Trying to fill each moment
With wonder and awe.
Looking through every window,
Opening every door.
Every single thing I’ve done
All of my creations
Glow worms in the noon day sun
Useless machinations.
Opher – 3.12.2023
I’m just wondering. All I see are games and egos, conmen and hucksters.
Yet I can take a photo of a glorious sunset or snow-capped mountains and suck it all in.
I can thrill to the hovering of a hawk or the dancing of a hare.
That’s what life is.