Monday, April 22, 2013
The Eyes of Time
The Eyes of Time
L.Edgar Otto 22 April, 2013
*The measure of time is how long over which one lives that
he can compare to the brief life, long past of another he has known.
*We do not forget the intimacy of sensitivity for the flesh that is saturated within us more to vanishing. But it is difficult to recall it outside ourselves, to communicate it to that outside, to another heart or mind.
*Yet, it is possible to find the way. Thus we build deep bonds in time, and expand the props of the stage as we fill our universe, hear far from the mask and voice of resolving gods in the machine, echos high in the isles and pews as if one with them while to touch them.
*The measure of space is how unimportant some who have passed on before you, frees you from their ghostly power of earthly evil and buries their lies
*A half lonely soul can be his own space and time.
*I was but the shadows and the phosphene light on which you gazed, safe a distant dance surrounding you, not sure who was half naked yet saw was real, opened or closed to your curtains as your whims blew in the wind, yet you never knew me.
*Hours then the years before your mirror and your oils, paints and dyes, funny hats, rolls of towels of paper. The shower curtains accidental a crack, the angle and the minute hand waiting for my return, clock face stopped but right.
*But if in the maze we come face to face random errands in the street too close your wrinkles, age, a centaur's rump, your hawks head on a classical body, in fantasy to worship, send sacrifices, so like mine,that other nakedness that abhors the light so suffers in perdition along with the forests and pock-holes of microscopic mites in high definition. So we draw our blinds down to hide within the iron bars of our hearts, excused by news all unknowns may show the unlocked heart finds evil.
*Like an old song that sounds good again the light shines out from all directions as we pretend things not changed in the unrequited prologue that we give or are primed to give only in time's presence born again as if there were no rejections.
Earth Day 1970:
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