“These Single Seconds”


“These Single Seconds”

These single seconds, presentiments of all
And nothing in eternity, everything in being
So alive; so much ado for yet another death in Venice, the seam
Of what is past as in a single passion’s pall
So sharpened in the moment that its cut
Is never noted until the point of infection. Minutes and the hour
Record a simple causal pause, time enough to harvest flowers
That surely wilts conceived so thoughtlessly. But
In the common flush of extremities, the blush, the rush, the flow,
This now is always yesterday’s dream, tailings of self-deception,
Always what has happened just before, some weak inflection
Of realities and truth but crudely reckoned, a seed yes! newly sown
That only time can nourish through nearly seven times ten in years
In swaddling veils of unmitigated grace and holiness in arrears.

3 responses to ““These Single Seconds”

  1. so many seconds over the years, we’re rich… if we count them as plusses. x

  2. Excellent. This notion of eternity contained in each moment, in each second, is almost suspicious in its simplicity. But clearly, time does not open to those who sleep in memories of the past or dreams of the future. If the halls of the Absolute truly belong to each of us, then surely the entry way is right there, in a second, in a moment… of Presence.

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