The book of time

another poem on an empty afternoon

The Book of Time

 

I’ve lived an entire array of afternoons

Wandering into despair

Going down the spiral of time

Becoming one with the night

 

Where the clocks rule faith

And we watch our dreams

Rise and fade away

With the first rays of morning light

 

When poets find their naked minds

And look into the eyes of loneliness

To once again open the book of time

And go through yet another day