Days passed.
\nChasing the peaceful nights,
\nDays passed.<\/p>\n
These short measures of time,
\nSignified by light and by dark,
\nOr by sun and by moon,
\nChased each other onward:
\nNight chasing day
\nChasing night,
\nAnd then day.
\nAnd again.<\/p>\n
What mournful recollections
\nWhen only night and day
\nAre significant of time
\nPassed.<\/p>\n
What boredom, more
\nThan boredom;
\nDespondent in all but a heartbeat.<\/p>\n
Why did the heart keep beating?<\/p>\n
No more than night or day
\nOr beating heart
\nHad purpose.
\nAnd in that,
\nNo more purpose than dividing<\/p>\n
Time,
\nThe torturer of mind,
\nThe tester of truth
\nAnd the jester of life.<\/p>\n
Such was that time.
\nIt was a hard time,
\nFood had no meaning
\nIn that desolate heat;
\nTo eat was to sustain a
\nHeart that never should have beat
\nAgain.<\/p>\n
Such were the thoughts then.<\/p>\n
Sight melted into fantasy
\nAnd terror,
\nSurmising the possibility
\nOf a better life,
\nAnd of better deaths in
\nThat desolate heat.<\/p>\n
That desert heat left
\nWater more valuable
\nThan all the gold
\nThat in fantasies
\nThe sands were made of.<\/p>\n
Ah! A desert of sand of gold!
\nSo beautiful!<\/p>\n
No! No beauty in a desert:
\nOnly in water;
\nBut no!
\nAnd even then
\nOnly beauty in Death.<\/p>\n
So the mind wandered,
\nObserving the days
\nChase the nights.<\/p>\n
Sleepless nights.
\nWhy waste time in sleep
\nWhen there is a sure death
\nWaiting?
\nWhy mimic the inevitable?<\/p>\n
Yet, how not to sleep?
\nTo let time pass without
\nNotice of a day or a night.<\/p>\n
But in sleep death is mimicked.
\nQuestions raised
\nTorment through sleepless
\nNights and fantastic days.
\nShall the awakening from Death
\nBring another day
\nAs the awakening from a night
\nBrings another day,
\nAnd with it the agony of
\nThat day, then the night
\nChasing the day,
\nAnd again?<\/p>\n
Or does this death become
\nThe death of nights
\nAnd days,
\nThe death of time only
\nBut not of the body?<\/p>\n
It is intrinsic in being
\nThat existence involves
\nThe occupation of time,
\nAnd of space,
\nAnd that being connotes
\nAn awareness of that time
\nAnd that space and
\nThe relationship to them
\nPossessed by that which
\nExists and which has being.<\/p>\n
What then does a death
\nTake away?
\nThis desolate heat
\nIn this desert space
\nAt this despondant time?
\nThe weary body?
\nThe awareness of
\nOf time and space?<\/p>\n
Or just a heartbeat.<\/p>\n
Or just a dream of gold laden sands,
\nSifting through the hands,
\nAnd women in raiment of satin
\nBearing jugs of water for
\nAn insatiable thirst
\nFor gold?
\nFor water?<\/p>\n
That death awaits.<\/p>\n
The inevitable conclusion
\nOr the indecisive beginning.
\nThat death which would
\nTake away this heat,
\nThis desert,
\nThis nothingness,
\nTo put nothing in
\nIts place.<\/p>\n
But should a death come,
\nWho to experience the
\nNight and the day
\nChasing nights?
\nWho to feel the
\nMeaningless hunger?<\/p>\n
What heart to beat
\nThe rhythms of time
\nSet apart from the
\nRhythms of day
\nAnd night?<\/p>\n
Should the desert become
\nVoid of the life that
\nFeels its heat,
\nAnd its nights and days,
\nNo purpose would remain
\nIn night and day.<\/p>\n
Night and day would have
\nNo being,
\nNor existence for
\nNothing conscious
\nWould be there
\nTo be aware of them.<\/p>\n
Unless the death does
\nCome to show them
\nThat death is
\nOnly death of this
\nAwareness
\nOf this time
\nAnd this space.<\/p>\n
Will not the sun
\nStill shine,
\nThe moon still glow?<\/p>\n
The people still
\nAppease their
\nBeliefs?<\/p>\n
Such delusions.<\/p>\n
Forty days;
\nForty nights:<\/p>\n
‘Tis no wonder he
\nWas ready for the cross.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Days passed.
Chasing the peaceful nights,
Days passed.<\/p>\n
These short measures of time,
Signified by light and by dark,
Or by sun and by moon,
Chased each other onward:
Night chasing day
Chasing night,
And then day.
And again.<\/p>\n
What mournful recollections
When only night and day
Are significant […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6,1,5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-222","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-metaphysical","category-poems","category-time"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/smpoetry.amigotico.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/222","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/smpoetry.amigotico.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/smpoetry.amigotico.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/smpoetry.amigotico.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/smpoetry.amigotico.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=222"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/smpoetry.amigotico.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/222\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":224,"href":"https:\/\/smpoetry.amigotico.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/222\/revisions\/224"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/smpoetry.amigotico.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=222"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/smpoetry.amigotico.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=222"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/smpoetry.amigotico.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=222"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}