21 August 2019

Postcard 177

Old time moves like a stone wheel
and is plastered in chipped beauty
Old time makes short work of plans and youth

Old time's ever open maw grinds on relentless
Look about you: see the teeth upon
everything you see. See the mighty tongue
wrapped around each being

Old time trucks no mark nor measurement
Has no count as ring of tree
Look ahead at gullet's void, always steady
always distant, ever ready to be the present
for man, for beast, for stone for star

For in old time's thick hands
fingers steady, nimble as rust
is every fed thing

Old time is grace itself: smooth
when slow, and smooth at speed

Old time is your constant friend
Time is on your honest side
Old time won't let you hide or obfuscate

Old time's mouth
is too full of us to lie

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