…there is something illicit, it seems,
about wasted time,
the empty hours of contemplation when a thought unfurls,
figures of speech budding and blossoming,
articulation drifting like spent petals
onto the dark table we all once gathered around to talk and talk,
letting time get the better of us.
_Just taking our time_, as we say.
That is, letting time take us.
~Patricia Hampl from “A Search for the Sublime”
I don’t “let” time do anything.
It allows me to be swept along,
unfurling, budding and blossoming,
but today drifting wholly spent.
So time takes me where it wishes,
and even gets the better of me
and so it shall ever be.