The timing is made by us, mere mortals,
we like to label things-
hours, days, years,
Ever new each dawn and flow
of time, purposeful.
It affects gait and posture,
and the designation merely
a label or changing brand.
Better to think Plotinus,
our own inner being,
is introduced to the yet
unwritten and unread,
the valley not yet built upon
or hilltop yet unclimbed,
but bringing feet of clay
to view, the picture
from the place we be.
A New year,
a new chapter page and story,
to be written with the ink
of loves understanding,
A happy new year.
Not Chronos now but Kairos.
Bernard Kennedy's Other Poems
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