Friday, February 24, 2006

the clock

There was a clock that clinked and clang every hour, every day.
Each time I looked up into that weather-beaten face,
I saw time, walking, slipping, fluttering…away.

It had peeling brown paint, slapped onto its circular frame. Even glass glazed over the long black numbers. It reflected little spotlights onto the pavement where I stood, gazing up in awe and reverence. How resolutely the longest black arm moved, from mark to mark, stealing the hours away. Never speeding up, never slowing down. Time. Always, on and on, without one thought of the rushing world that tried to defeat it, or the plodding moments that belong to childhood and aged wrinkles. Somehow people went around it, flattened it to their liking, but it never really changed. It swindled them. In the end every person found that time had gone on, whether they had acknowledged it or not. So I stood, running my finger against the rough stones that made its fortress to the sky, and wondered.
Of course time still went on, even as I thought on it. My childhood years, though made of days and days could still be stated in a few small sentences, a few small memories of the things I noticed in the blur. They stood out as a flash of fresh color, firm in a place of a different making; where color was not real and firmness a myth, the place of forgotten insignificance. Familiar and happy faces there were, swing sets, sand, sea shells, wind, reading, writing until my hand ached, trees, blackberries, shadows, tall doors, cold water, soft grass, sudden rain, smiling dolls, and pretending, always imagining things up. I inquisitively watched the quiet moments that stole over people, when they pulled into themselves and thought of time that went on without them. Just a moment though. Then the blankly staring eyes would flicker and come back into focus. Or were the only true moments of focus when they drew back and looked hard at the road in time they had beaten?
I walked on through the days. Things I never wished to end died in their tracks, leaped from my grasp like water that slips and glides past. I began to notice that there were things I had that I did not appreciate until they were spent. I began to think of the moment as it happened. I would place each beautiful thing that came, into that other world of color and firmness, so as to never loose them to the forgotten insignificance. It served me well. I found ways to cheat time.
There was more than friends and games that needed savoring though. There were deeper things I found you could loose, in a deeper chasm than distance; trust, love, innocence, youth, even the giant life. The setting sun of my youth did come and I knew that I could only keep as much as I saved.
There I stood on the pavement, gazing up in awe and reverence. How resolutely the longest black arm moved, from mark to mark, stealing the hours away. Never speeding up, never slowing down. Time…and as I moved into a new place in life, I clutched a satchel full of time. There was no way to stop time, but there was a way to keep it, hold it in my hand. Memories of the moments…there I could hold it, in my hand, in my head, and in my heart.

6 Comments:

Blogger lucyprehiem6059503836 said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

May 12, 2006  
Blogger J3 said...

I guess you've given up on this site... *sigh*

June 19, 2006  
Blogger J3 said...

*sigh* I miss your stories... and I miss you... maybe I can just let everything out here... where I know no one will look or care to... and I'll remove some of this burden... somehow it will help, like it always has.

I won't utter the 3 precious words, the eternal phrase of endearment, for to do so here, in a vaccum, would be a waste and unfair, proof that they lacked any true meaning to me. but it does not mean that I do not feel it, for it's quite the contrary. it is because I feel so that I contain it inside, focusing it so that it might not fade away or be spent.

I be hailed over to the dishes that require attention.
so long, o phantom of better times

June 19, 2006  
Blogger J3 said...

if you come back to this, don't trash it for any reason... no matter what anyone says, it's beautifull. doesn't mean you should start using it, i'd be against that, but it gives me hope. perhaps it is false hope, but hope is the sustenance of life, so I'll just be ignorant to that possiblility.

June 20, 2006  
Blogger J3 said...

by "this" I meant this blog. I don't want it all to dissapear in one fell swoop. if you must keep it from me at least save the posts as drafts instead of deleting them

June 20, 2006  
Blogger J3 said...

hey... :)


sorry about these comments... I was feeling lost and empty at the time. I needed to throw something out somewhere. you can delete them if you want

February 19, 2007  

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