The River of Time runs straight.
Neither weaving nor turning.
It is self manifested
and drawn from the point of infinity.
It has no bounds or borders.
It exists because we do.
Neither is one without the other.
A continuum that's -
self created -
self-perpetuating -
by the singularity of movement
made without whisper or effort.
There is no 'end of time',
only a new beginning
from which it is born.
I sit beside a river -
not one of 'Time' -
but of water.
Around its surface swirls of eddies
conducted, it would seem, by the soft rush of noise.
There's power here.
I can see it.
I can feel it.
I pick a small stone and lightly toss it to the middle.
I watch as it quickly and quietly sinks
disappearing forever beneath the surface.
I feel I am that stone.
One that understands the transcendence of 'time'
for my journey has no set path.
Only by encountering new experiences
will the discovery that 'time' brings, be unearthed.
What happens next, only time will tell.
So I pick up another stone only to see that it is me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
self created - self-perpetuating - by the singularity of movement made without whisper or effort. very imaginative with a meaningful picture added to it.. loved your philosophy. tony