The Passage Of Time Poem by Adam Hollingsworth

As I walk down this path,
I see the reflection
Of sky staring back
In radiance.

The song of the birds,
The productivity
Of the squirrel.
…it raises a smile.

The laughter of children
At play,
The sonata of conversation
In nature.

I sit by the picture
Of life,
And I begin to ponder.

I ponder what was,
What is,
And
What will be.

I ask myself,
“What is time? ”
an illusion?
A tapestry?
A sacred
Text?
Or a work of
Art?

Or maybe time is a relationship,
The relationship we get
When aesthetic contemplation
Raises an image.

Would time exist
Without the planets
To dance?
The stars of a story?
And without the creature
Of bright light?
Then what?
…time would stop.

A passage through life,
A road through our mind,
A brief stop in time…
Time stopped when I held her.

When you slept by my side,
Time was non-existent.
I would admire you’re peaceful grace
As you held my hand.
The tears of beauty I cried,
While sleep made an angel of you.
The passage of time we held,
…it was ours
to control.

Time has continued,
Time is rolling.

Now she’s gone,
But sometimes I still
Paint our passage
In time.

Sometimes I wish to forget
All we had, and
All the purity you possessed
The nostalgia hurts,
Hurts like hell,
But to forget a story like that,
Would be a crime I couldn’t bear.

The path I follow,
Through my journals.
I find a different person
In each one.
The boy who cried
Over failed love
Has hardened
And turned to stone.

The friends he had,
They held his hand.
Gave him the world,
And bottled his tears
In times of dread.

And now they’re lost,
To the passage of time,
Only to be found
In journals written
By someone
I use to be.

Life is a crippling journey,
We look back
At the journey we had.
I wonder if they still
Think about me.
I wonder if they
Anticipate a call.
I wonder why I did
All these things
And lost a world
So beautiful.

I yelled, I screamed
Bloody murder
Across the lines
…I’m sorry,
I still love you,
But chance has struck my dry.

The past is a dangerous
Story to walk down,
I wonder
Will the future be,
As beautiful?