Sphere of Light
Waiting fifteen minutes to Fajr Prayer just this side of the end of the world kaleidoscoping inward toward us all escalators a…
What if the machinery of time were just a
little motor somewhere like one of those
Erector Set motors behind a little curtain
near an open window on the third floor
whizzing a little as its gears turn and
everything that occupies any kind of space
grand small macrocosmic microcosmic
danced to its frail tune even those deep space
barely squintily visible planets and star clusters
where we have no idea at all when they
might break for lunch or lie down to die
and the machinery of time of course
never runs down nor speeds up nor
fluctuates in any way though we often
experience its intrepid doggedness at its
task as either swifter or slower and by
God’s direct Power as sometimes altogether
non-existent though those gaps be rare and much
sought after among the clackety-clacks of
what we take as real life
And so here’s this little machine after all
by flapping curtains on a wooden stool say
a really small machine of no imposing size
clickety-pinging along really modestly
and millennia of jungles lift their teaks
and crashes of ocean bash shore-rocks incessantly
And yet if this little contraption were to
short out or simply cease altogether
and go still maybe in a
worrisome puff of smoke and distinct
electrical odor then would all existence just
collapse or would as it were invisible
cage doors open to evocative melodious choir sound
and we’d flow out or in to some
timeless place on earth where things would
halt their progress towards decay
or would they? Or would we all simply
be expanded and ascended into a
sweet pure timelessness yet continuing to
breathe and breed as before or
would that curtained window there on the
third floor then be all that is?
4/23/07 (from Invention of the Wheel)
Categories: Poems