Archive for age

T(h)yme

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , on April 19, 2014 by themanwiththecowboyboots

 

Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme

 

Two of us in the garden, holding hands, singing and believing that we are eternal

We are eternal

Like dark spots in the ether that makes you remember your slumber

We are eternal

 

Parsley and sage

There are thirty one days this month and two of them are devoted to you and three of them are mine, and together we may spend a week but I will never forget to bring my calendar because we may be eternal, but we are not as eternal as we could be

 

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme

 

I could look deeply in your eyes today, and see a reflection of myself, staring back in time, staring, because it takes light some time to travel, staring from the past, I know if I blink it will take my reflections nanoseconds to blink, I know if I disappear, my reflection will linger a little longer

 

The greenness of our youth, dissipated,broken apart, like the shallow rivers as the stones disrupt the peaceful slumbers

 

Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme 

are now darker, drier more shriveled, and you are somewhat older

 

 

We were once eternal, like a tree or a shrub, and then we were uprooted and then life took us by surprise and we were no longer

 

Now we are two children of a jar, like herbs whose only essence is reminiscent of yesterday

 

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme

 

But if I could pick a moment, one moment, between the big bang and the heat death of the universe, one moment, only one of countless others, only one, I would pick ours, because there are twenty four hours a day, but only ours matter

 

And the monk who keeps the garden, would count the ears of corn, and he would not go to sleep, until his ears are counted

He shouldn’t have left his bed

 

And we would watch peacefully, from afar, and in that moment we would find that we are in sync, even if we never were, even if we have different perceptions of time, even if mine was a calendar and yours was a leaf of parsley, sage and rosemary

 

And we would read the newspaper and stand in the city square and solve our multiplication tables

And we would wait, and we would wait, until we are forgotten

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