like the long spring twilight so slowly fading but not quite
ending
the dark
winter's night without any real beginning
like the endless school year when we were still young
children
time, to a
stone, as it is ground into sand by a stream
like the trees never growing though seen every day
the changes
on our own faces, so difficult to notice
like the loss which hurts less often than it did at first
the future
that contains us knowing only one direction
like the threads that lie scattered without cause or effect
the lines of
our lives flow then end, with no change in pressure
like the volcanic islands which arose, flourished and were
swallowed
the constant
roar of the ocean as it is pounds away on a shore
like the day of the year which shifts light into dark
the memory of
a lonely figure fading off into a dusk
like the smallest of details which plagues one for long
years
the certainty
of our passing can never quite be ignored
like the vision that visits in time of our greatest need
there is this
mute summons served without any notice
like the confusion that we sense at the center of so many
things
comes a slow
perception that quietly aids in our adjustment
like the fearless zeal of those who know very little
the honesty
of children which cannot be ignored
like the brief moment we spend as ourselves on this blessed
earth
our
un-measurable fraction of all of time grows ever smaller
like the two atoms fusing brightly in a far-off star
the smallest
cause can bring about the biggest change
like the simplest ideas that transform entire societies
only the best
teachers can explain all things to their children
like the way that details appear when one walks upon the
land
the faster we
can go the less we are able to notice
like the myriad drops forming a river that’s now lost in the
ocean
those
experiences unfolded into someone we had known
like the way the dawn ends so very quickly
the morning
builds quite slowly and then disappears
like the distance light travels while we are sleeping
the
multiverse measures our allotment with utmost precision
like the strain in our voices that was never there in the
past
the stranger
with failing eyes shuffling up to the mirror
like the end of the day as we finally drift off into sleep
the journey
of the dying is taken alone, by one and by all
like the time that you wake up not a child anymore
the days of
our wisdom pass quickly in a dimming of our senses
like the home only dreamed of and the childhood but imagined
the long
distant future is as empty for any as for all of the others
like the many days so far gone that we have forgotten when
we forgot them
the unknown
we emerged from lies infinitely open before us
like the things which once moved us and the songs in our
hearts
a quiet contemplation
becomes a means to our end
like the far distant stars which move but little no matter
our puny time frame
things pass
so quickly for so long and then comes nothing more
like the years passing by ever faster than we can grasp them
the volume of
uncertainty increasing geometrically
like the jagged lightning, we are hurled to the earth
the endless
days that follow leave but a random pile of pearls
like the holy blue planet in whose shallows we bathe in the
light
the darkness
eternal surrounds while enfolding us into long night
like the countless tiny creatures with crucial lives to
attend to
the nearness
of the emptiness spurs us on to but small actions
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