Time Not Lost Poem by James Murdock

Never is there truly
time lost.
What we see
out there
is always within us
first.
And what we speak
and do
is only the fragrance
rising from
newborn moments.
It is not that
essential thing.
Time is not lost
because the things
we lose
are never us
to begin with.
They are lichens,
growing on
our old wood.
They dry up
in the heat
of midday
and crumble
to pieces.
When they are gone
we may still look
at where they grew.