Simile: Life’s Clock

 

I was going through some drawers today, trying to consolidate and get rid of whatever I really didn’t need.  I gain a certain satisfaction in doing this.  I don’t like clutter – even the clutter that is hidden from view.

Much to my surprise, I found an old poem of mine that I wrote when only 19.  While reading it, it made me realize how thoughtful and serious about life I was at that young age.  Second surprise.

 

clock

 

SIMILE:  LIFE’S CLOCK

One of the most worrisome

Questions of them all

Is:  Who dares to take from

That imperious clock on the wall,

Flagrantly, the right or the might,

If I may with permission add,

To capture the Seasons or Day’s light;

And finding none about this glad?

Now, as it comes to my bother,

I find that each and every

One of us, in one way or another,

For no reason or for every,

Is attempting the utilization

Of this time force

To find only sheer futilization

And, the agony of loss

In the repression of active mind:

Of full hopes; brave dreams; and pure souls.

So we sit:  we turn and wind;

Trying to perceive far-away goals.

Why does one to no avail

Conceive and plan without some cares

For we servants, who shall fail

Our future mark; cursed by he who dares?

Time is neither girl nor man:

At dawn, it’s naive and new;

At dusk, it’s a wizened broad hand,

Sweeping out remnants of a life we knew.

Life is to fate as fate is to life:

We are all of us destined to an end.

There is goodness and yes there is strife;

Whatever, the hands of the clock an eternity lend.

~ Carol Carlson

[image from bingdotcom]

 

 

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