What is this place called time?

Nothing exists without time being its main component.

It flows through our fingers like water

It evaporates like a mist, yet remains.

It's gone in the blink of an eye.

It's the breath of a whisper.

The turn of a head at just the right instant.

It captures what only our heart and mind can retain.


Time is but a memory of what has simply and unavoidably passed over us,

            Through us, around us, under us.

Yes, time is lateral and vertical.

            Nothing else is quite like it.

Time takes note of all the thin places we encounter;

            Entrusting us with revelation.

Time is ever expressive of the whole of one's self.


Time is illusive.

            And will not ever be harnessed.

Constantly, time is on the move;

            Enveloping the all of all.

The only thing it leaves in its wake;

             Is more time.


We are forever encompassed by the wonderment of time.

In complacency we become remiss of its power.

Dare I say we lose track of its meaning?

            Of its amazing quality?

That time is not against us but is for us?

We are each allotted so much of its vibrant qualities.


Grieve not over time past,

            And the "what ifs."

When a moment of time passes;

            It begins yet again.

                        New again.

Though we can't grasp the gift of time;

            We are becoming an essential and vital portion of its intricacy.

Time.....in all its Glory

Is Eternity.

by Denise Sherriff

November 4, 2018