The Game of Time
The world is moving ’round in circles
I feel the stress signs on my brow
the heart beats anguishing my chest
the acid puncturing my stomach
the dry mouth claiming out for water.
The glottis closes, the food won’t pass
The back tenses right up to the ache above the eye.
And yet I feel a stillness in the center
Nothing really has actually moved from place
Only the ups and downs of the horses on the carrousel
Making waves on the outside, in a fantasy upheld
Within I can breathe
And regain the calm centre
And nothing terrible will have happened
Be it one way or another
We want to push around the mountains
They only laugh at us steadfast
They play the tides, and blow the froth
Only to make us believe we are the makers.
What destiny is in hand
We will only know at last
When daisies do remind us
Of our knit-ties to the ground.
Notwithstanding we must play the game
What else is there for our blind humanity
Than seek, and find, what treasures may be allotted
To each of us in our own time.
SIlvia Munton