Duration
It would be a shame if we,
Didn't see that every moment is a decision,
To feel the world with intuition,
That every breath is created new
One of a kind,
A chapel away from the chattering mind.
How sad to only live cordoned off in one's
Castle of stone,
While outside animals freely roam,
And the scent of earth after rain,
Invites our naked feet out to clay.
I weep for those who before sleep,
Compose only to think of what
could might or may,
And ruminate while cows outside gaily graze,
And without skipping a beat, free as a bird,
Far from abstract notions they keep.
Must we resign to tendency,
Of thoughts dependency on sections,
Chopped up and sliced reflections,
Of what was, is or will be,
And can only be seen hypothetically,
And one's own instinct regarded sceptically?
Every next beat,
Every next beat!
Is a chance,
To take mother nature's hand and dance,
To an ancient rhythm that can't be studied,
Broken into a million parts or muddied,
But known only as continuous song,
An unfolding Duration; so let's hum along.
