Time exists in testimonials encased and framed.
Each singularity proud and erect standing beside
and supported by a lone consort.
When recalled and rendered within,
No pause is seen nor heard, except
when played in very slow motion.
From beginning to end we discern infinity
and see the process as one motion never completed.
In a blink of an eye, eternity exists.
The story gets told in the afterglow;
lingering as ripened fruit on an old tree.
Revealing time as ringed markers; remnants
of what was and will never be again.
A collection of the Creator's intent.
A sweeper follows your every vector
locked in folds of a played out sector
As procreator, with no beginning and no end
that all before cannot amend.
Thy sly requiem nestled beneath the sun
appears to gloat in what's begun
as ancient rhyme created by design
and recorded in an eternal shrine.
What is Time and Space?
Hard to describe in human terms.
When I think about life
from beginning to end,
it seems implausible to even
contemplate but like a fool,