the clock as a passenger
looks with helpless hands,
as time often cast upon
the rocks of mans momentum
stalls past and present collide,
memory that flattering
cinemagraph of the synaptic’s
relays something other than was,
short breaths come
falter far from the heart,
we as living in this space
age,
flesh wither
wrinkles cluster and deepen
bones become fragile,
yet we strive to linger on
place ourselves as memory on others
so that it is not in vain
even a fragile hand held
is a memory,
cruel tides wash through time
that pull and toss you about,
so steady you remain
until that moment,
that flesh becomes shell
and memory is a function
of recollection,
not ready
it happens
now it is time to accept
and face your own reflection
again
velvetmedia 