Wednesday, July 2, 2008

100 Words - Hour

The silken hour slips away with a whisper,
at once soft and cutting,
like a ghost of treasure;
a homeless man’s memory of wealth.

Already the fabric of time slides
again through fingers numb with
the caducity of life, unable to
grasp its only true riches.

Time cannot be trapped,
cannot be stoppered in a bottle
like an epochal elixir
to fix all the world’s ills.

Indeed, it is only those who
have discovered the ancient rhythm
of joy and surrender
who are the masters of time.

For them its silken fabric is a sail filled with wind.

3 comments:

Velvet Verbosity said...

Wow. This was absolutely lovely! I look forward to more of your submissions. Once I get up to 30 participants I'm going to start awarding best entries in some way, though not sure how. I'm open to suggestions.

Renee Daniels said...

That was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.

Susan Helene Gottfried said...

That's awesome. I just finished reading a book called Kabbalah: A Love Story (written by Rabbi Lawrence Kushner) and this piece evokes that book.