An inkling in Time
Center of all our experience..this we know..but
looms a question..when time appears in its solitude..
lone standing..independence declared..it also echoes of
separation..suffering..of a brevity with loneliness tinged..
and hope departing..we ask and wait for something
unknown..clocks persist ticking on and on..gloom directs
sitting on a storied park bench..then lo an inkling..time is
not found in this experience while sitting..mind rebels
at this most outrageous inkling and shouts fraud..but
the inkling is a message with eternal dressing..and