Ok, I’m still working on the ideas/metaphors behind this one (started many years ago, still not even close to being finished). As it it deals with space-time, I hope you indulge me a bit. I have no business diving into these areas, but I like to anyway. The idea of relativity, of our clocks as inconsequential, all our fears, worries, anxieties all wrapped up in our own version of time, which we know only as a constant… then learning that it’s not! If you are into cosmology and related “light” reading, look up Mario Livio. [my fav astrophysicist/author]
complexity of the time-space continuum
I am a three dimensional solid although
many dark nights I feel completely flat.
I experience time, and it is blood pounding through my heart.
In the universe, all is light billions of years in the traveling
through space billions of miles empty.
Here, all is the idea of now.
So many times I say I have not begun what I set out to do,
that I’m wasting my life
sitting in this dark moldy stairwell waiting.
Waiting on the perfectly safe door to open.
Waiting on a perfect gentleman to lead the way.
Waiting on that epoch fear that my hours will cease
before I’m ready.
Some say “be patient and wait, in the future you will see.”
Don’t they hear the hours
while we stand still growing old.
Don’t they see sand swallowed by the tide,
by the moon,
All of us neither created nor destroyed
yet slowed by gravity, affected.
Don’t they understand by the end of this breath,
our notion of the present is the past
and by the time we decide to move,
the space is filled.
No one, not even Einstein or Hawking,
has this relativity figured. Us poets
are not exceptional. We witness
our space plowing straight ahead
to only come out bent.