|
| |
Time Stops
Time stops.
The vile hands receive their recompense.
Time stops.
The fallen rise again.
Time stops.
Prayers ascend to the inner court.
Time stops.
The door opens to the needy.
Time stops.
The night summons the cocooned.
Time stops.
There is a battle between two worlds.
Time stops.
The withered meadows bloom.
Time stops.
The tendrils of darkness retreat.
Time stops.
The seekers stand by a glowing river.
Time stops.
I see my mother kneeling by her bedside, faint words escaping her lips as tears stream down her face.
Time stops.
I see my grandmother whisper her last words in the twilight of autumn.
Time stops.
I hear songs echoing from the open field beside a cathedral.
Time stops.
The craftsman smoothes wood with slow, rhythmic movements, refusing to be hindered by age.
He speaks of the dignity of labour.
Time stops.
I sit beside my grandfather as he shares how the essence of humans is the same as the essence of the sun.
Time stops.
My father’s portrait tells his story.
Time stops.
The wind whistles.
Time stops.
There’s a knock on my door.
I open it, but no one is there.
Time stops.
I search for the unknown.
Time stops.
A sage reveals where the mind begins.
Time stops.
The creator becomes a slave to the creation.
Time stops.
I journey to Zion’s gate.
August 16, 2025.
Copyright ©
Thompson Emate
|
|