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Thursday, March 10, 2005

Time of his life


He looks at his watch.
It is time he wasn't here.
He looks at his watch again.
It is time he was elsewhere.

But where should he be?
What is the right location,
For being,
At this time of day?

Does the universe allow anyone
To be anywhere
And anywhen
At ten past three
On a grey afternoon?
Or doesn't it matter?

Maybe it doesn't matter at all.
Maybe time is an illusion which we use
To structure our perception of reality
Here in the third dimension,
On a grey afternoon.

A few slow moments
Of freshly baked fruit scones,
Clotted cream,
And chunky third dimension
Strawberry jam
Would be nice.

Accompanied by
A synchronistic pot of Earl Grey tea
Unhurriedly consumed
In a parallel reality.
With a waft of Oil of Bergamot
From the empyrean.

He throws away his watch.
It's time for tea.




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Sands of Time
A drawing by Rowena Morill

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