They Time Together - 0209 - 1991 Version Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

Life's tidal streams so quickly flow
that few can fairly contemplate
the currents which combine to throw
Time's hands towards their destined Fate.

Few feel for Truth or care to know
what dreams may teem past Peter's gate,
Death's sting nothing averts. Although
the 'moving finger's' never late,

most try to thwart the sword of fate,
hesitate, hot, cold, oft blow,
too often kill what they create,
as, blind eye turned, they backwards g[r]o[w].

Lost, alone, in lovelorn limbo,
most time together, separate,
the lies they live on earth below
their progeny perpetuate.

Cocooned from change, most answer 'no! '
when new horizons captivate,
their god remains the status quo
whenever storm-clouds congregate.

‘Reflection' seems to blind echo
confined where men encapsulate
their hopes and fears within, where no
enlightenment can penetrate.

Thick skins which feelings seldom show,
minds which will not negociate
new challenges in embryo,
are doomed, in their own muck stagnate.

Ignore therefore the vertigo
of careless crowds and concentrate
upon strong inner dynamo
to harness energies innate.

Let Reason join with Love's soft glow,
anxieties emancipate;
at last Man will his state outgrow,
fulfilled, from false fears liberate.

(20 June 1991)