Atara Gedalowitz

(January 31)

In Time


Spinning slow or spinning fast,
Depending on your vantage point,
The earth revolves and evolves
Whirling through fragments
And slivers.
It spins a thousand years,
For the bloom of one spring.
It twirls a thousand more,
For the breath of one snake.
It lives and breathes,
It dies and wreathes,
For a million marching feet
Who will beat
To the rhythm of their own
Hands
Clapping in time
With a pulse
Of eons
Of generations,
Who do not know their descendants,
But hope for a future
That they might be causing.

For a hundred thousand nights
Stars will shine
So that someone might compare your smile
To their light,
And for two hundred thousand thirteen days
The waves will roll
So you might know
For a moment
What it means to be consistent
While changing every day.

A snowflake will form
Alone from its comrades
And sparkle as it falls from the sky
Towards the white mass
Where the fact that it is different
Will make no difference
Except to those who care
Why it is that the earth will turn,
A fire will burn,
Generations will come and go.

For those who think about
The infinity of the ephemeral
Who will wait
With bated breath
For the searing rendition
Of the final glorious
Tintinnabulation
So they might hear
Bells throughout the universe
Chiming concinnously

Each washed away footstep,
A speck of sand in a glass,
Spinning quickly or slowly
Or not moving at all
But always in time
With everything else
As it is

Submitted: Sunday, April 07, 2013
Edited: Thursday, October 10, 2013
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