There comes a time                           

What is time?

What is time?

What is time?

What.

Is.

This.

Thing.

We.

Call.

Time?

When nothing matters                     

 Once, everything mattered

When memories become                

Like mist rising from the forest floor

Yes, it is true, as we age, everything blurs

After a sudden hail storm            

I never imagined this happening/ To me/

Every year, less matters.

Only the essential

Pairing away, the superfluous, the outer 

Shell. I wish I understood this ten years ago/

Watching my parents die.

I did not. 

Fuck the ego that keeps us bound.

On a cold spring 

New England day.

Cold, I’m cold so often,

There comes a time                          

The joke of our lives, this thing called time.

When nothing matters                       

Once everything mattered

Creation meaningless                       

Once I saved everything I made/ everything 

I wrote/

Once even everything I said, seemed

Momentous.

There was a time when         

Everything mattered.

The Ego is an inconceivable thing, before we are able to step back to see it for what it is.

Ha! Achievements for what

To prepare us for war. To prepare us for 

What? Not Death,

Thinking, never me.                         

I, I am immortal.

Achievements are what it is all about. 

A-Chieve-Ment/

Mint. Yes, It’s like wild mint, pungent,     

Bitter, sweetened with honey with illusion. 

The sounds of wings beating           

Still, I swoon

Mingling with the imperceptible    

Still the imperceptible is what I most cherish

Interwoven with the icy.  

As winter turns now to spring.

Yet,

There comes a time when 

Hope becomes a distant star                

But there is hope in the spring flowers

In the Green False Hellebore, Veratrum viride,

One sees the illusion, becomes lost in the nightmares of an old person,

When the mystery of love                     

In the call of the Red Winged Blackbird.              

No more compelling                             

In this wild Ferris ride called living.

When disintegration                            

Is all we see. The multi-colored yet faded

Leaves under water                           

on the forest floor.

Even though summer flowers are screaming to the world in their momentary riot of colors

I am remembering coffins laid in the ground.

Along side the sound of wings beating           

Still, I swoon

Mingling with the imperceptible    

Still the imperceptible is what I most cherish

I,

I am choosing to be present with the mystery.

With the Eagle vision being thrust upon me.

With what it means to shift out the endless noice

And just listen to the sound of the waves and the wind.

~ In Two Voices; Still The Imperceptible Is What I Most Cherish

@ Susan Gesmer, 2022-2023