Time Wise Poem by William Coyne

Time measured by ticks of a clock matter
to many moneyed servants and paying masters,
diners awaiting food for their platter,
pewed sheep suffering sermons from pastors,

but when we lay down in green pastures,
as the kind Lord hath made us so to do,
and open our souls to His raptures,
time unveils to us our meaning anew.

Clouds now passing by below the blue sky
measure the moments we also live by.
Free for the viewing and no required doing,
our unfettered being takes wings and flies.