Time's frantic Rush

 

A gossamer extravagance

More valuable than gold

But substance less as ether

Impossible to hold.

 

This is all the time we have

Every second past is lost

Irretreivable to we

Who, so nervously, count the cost.

 

Every mote of passing time

Fading from the now in mists

Losing shape’s integrity

Whilst coloured radiance desists.

 

What is soon to be, is now

And relegated fast to then,

Vanquished in a flick of fraud

Of stolen time to frantic men.

 

Like dust it pours through fingers

Seconds irretrievably depart,

Fleeing fast from consciousness,

Wrenched away from racing heart.

 

Lying in our skinny beds

We sweat away our seconds now,

Flicking eyeballs counting down

Till death eternal shows us how.

 

Marshalg

Victoria Park Tunnel

4 March 2012