Swiftly does time flow for the immortals.
A day is a heartbeat and a minute is forever.
An eternity in the moment
The moment in eternity.
Time marches on. Seconds ticking away.
The background blurs,
and the moment becomes sepia toned,
like an old photograph.
It's like a western, with the moment in the sun
before they draw stretched infinitely.
For immortals, there is no time.
There is only the infinite now
and the subjective past.
The library slows down.
The background blurs,
whilst the foreground
remains crisp and perfect.
There is the flash of a taken photo
and the present is preserved eternally.
Maybe someday, in the future,
10,000 years from now, more or less,
someone will find the photo of the immortal.
And stare in wonder, about the signifigance.
What does it mean, this photo of the immortal?
Why would anyone take a picture of the moment,
when in truth it is a photo, spaghettified,
dragged into infinity, the moment,
Forever in the life of an immortal.
2 comments:
Finally, I was able to comment. Good poem but, I feel the obscurity of it will confuse a lot who would read this. This is true especially in the beginning. What you want to do as a poet is to communicate with your readers. You don't want them to say: "What's he talking about?"
I think that obscurity will be your unique m.o. Go with what works for you.
+4
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