Poem: Time only time - its all we have, our greatest and most underrated resource

By silver light, the watchman

walks on shadowed walls,

until the night’s last stand

heralds the waking morn.

A sigh goes up, how long

‘ere the break of day,

when all the trees by song,

shall dance to gilded ray?

Soon, he shouts, very soon,
the golden orb shall breech:
for methinks its overdue -
so be gone, blackness, flee.

But then inquires another
“by what means can you tell -
or can this day be summoned
as flows the village well?”

What man could bid the day,
or by the hour the sun?
His light though soon or late
plumbs the line of time.

Raised wrists n’er defined
nor moved the hand divine,
what heav’n alone decides
that now, at last, its time …

.. for by the same decree
grey seasons come to pass,
so fade the stars that lead,
until day dawns, at last …

… to resurrect, by sure degrees
let none say can or can’t,
what God alone decrees -
this day be thus advanced

(c) Peter Eleazar @ www.4u2live.net