It’s Friday
Another week is gone
Another piece of life has slipped away
It’s easy to blame the clock
For marching on, into a future
We’re not ready to face
It’s not just that
It’s a future we control; one we possess
Not the other way around
The clock takes away the eternal
Binds us to its hands
Strips us of the moment
Yes, the clock takes it all away
Leading us to believe
That 24-7-365 is our real genetic code
For one hour, I sat on my meditation cushion
No clock in sight
Trying to forget time
I became so annoyed
First with clocks, then clockmakers
Then everyone insisting my time should be theirs
I sat for another hour
Time washed away my annoyances
Yet the wanting lingered
The wanting to be timeless
To be this or that, or anything
Then I saw it–my temporal conditioning
How in fact all the breaths I had taken in my life were lost–
Conditionally buried in the seconds, minutes, and hours
Of my time-bound life
I sat for another hour, and noticed another layer
Beneath my temporal conditioning
And beneath that another, and another
Till finally, I sensed the futility of trying
To experience my life outside of time’s onion
I looked at the clock, it was three pm
Poetic Alchemist 