~
Autumn falls fast,
when it springs into Winter,
whilst all along Winter
is getting warmed up.
~
And all of this happens
so plentifully fast,
which augments the feelings
of a life moving past.
–
So fast!   Too fast!
Is it time moving passed?
–
All of these feelings of failing and falling,
that appear first tied to the Fall,
see time as a thief, slowly detailing,
underneath! —
but atop, pulls out the pall.
~
Yet time is a number,
its existence is moot;
sans man to engender,
time bears no fruit.
~
But time ‘is’ a number,
a useful ideal.
Maybe — just maybe! —
it’s to number we appeal,
to the changes in moments
that everyone feels.
~
Maybe — just maybe! —
it’s to change that avails,
to the reasons these seasons
in feelings entail.
~
Take the year at its end,
which seems fastest of all;
to look ahead then,
shows time in a stall.
~
Time is heuristic,
and still an ideal;
to be more specific,
perhaps change, the real.
–
Perhaps time, a map-game,
using math to reveal
a spatial equivalence
to the changes we feel.
–
Some say it’s one moment
that’s just standing still —
that change in its foment,
time tries to steal.
–
Like monads in moments
and different dimensions —
these heuristic torments
inspire apprehensions,
and paradigm shift.
–
But these are just comments,
and thoughts all my own,
which some say are nonsense,
from thoughts all alone.
–
Thoughts come to mind
at the middle age drift,
and thereby entwines
a paradigm shift.

Copyright © 2011 Marvin Loyd Welborn.
Revised 30 March 2016.