Like a clock whose hands are sweeping
Past the minutes on it’s face
And the world is like an apple
Whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind
our time is marked by segments
years – months – days – hours – minutes
some are in the light
some are in the dark
some are inbetween.
what marks the transition from sleeping time
to doing time?
what starts the day?
Where when and why do our days end?
Not our total days, but each day?
|1.||the determining and marking off of the boundaries of something.|
I have been wondering,
the concept of demarcations
in this season of my life
– ought they to be set by me?
or by the coming and going of others?
by nature, at the going down of the sun etc