Time

It was the rhythm of destiny

that called your true name.

A single thread pulled from the breath,

 that only gods know how to breathe.

Woven into matter-form,

that dances with a fragile orbit

and glanced permission for mutual existence.

The essence of human,

with unconscious imagination

can and does

with one brush from its inspired momentum,

stop

time.

And stop itself

in time.

Between what is and what is not,

between the light and the dark,

between what is gone and what is yet to come,

is the given name of

now.

Now,

is a future-past

feeding off the remnant foundations

of the glimpses of eternity.

Accumulating, engorging and hoarding

time.

Holding, slowing and condensing

time.

Until the spirit of the seeker touches

the vibrating crystalline crucible of the mind,

to initiate ritual remembrance.

Oceans and winds,

dare to wear away the solidity of matter-formed flesh.

Who at its core,

dares to reach between the heart-beat,

and arrogantly face its creator.

Tempered is the self-initiated apprentice

across the faces of time.

Yet to drag and slither over jagged edged stone,

and lend blood to soil.

Yet to crawl out of the cavern

with inheritance of bone and belief.

Yet to kneel upon ancient-salted wounds,

then dare to pray where time stands still.

Yet to imitate the creature,

that only knows of seasons

of anticipation, destruction and creation.

Yet to infuse into its existence,

the thirsty trust of finite beauty and purpose.

Yet to initiate into its soul driven furnace,

the travelling karmic spirit and discover

its portioned communal fate.

The sun knowingly steers

its connected timeless portal,

its creations

across the galactic sacrificial thresholds.

With subtle caress of sublime sensation,

this willing teacher refuels

the curiosity of lost and scattered sparkles.

Swaying the heart-mind

from concepted linear,

into a plasma flux-song filled embryo.

Time is measured

by moments static in absence of a void,

whilst space fills the vacuum,

and lets the vortex chase the point of no return.

Time lets the apprentice

recognise the fallibility

of measurement and judgement,

upon the steps that touch the divine.

Time allows the voice to speak

while the tempo

stretches consciousness upon itself.

We exist truthfully with exalted trust,

only between heartbeats,

where the soul explains

the design,

and we choose again, 

to call our-self by our true name

and return

to entangle with time.

Copyright  Tzariellah 22/12/2020