The Timeless Lie

It little matters you know,

How time does pass,

Or mocks in hope,

Or washes out his long used socks,

Time never is a drink we gulp until we are an empty cup

and one day as the drink is drunk

we see the only drink is Love,

But sometimes it’s a door ajar we’d sooner just forget to close,

And leave nearby our muddy shoes,

In Memories pressed from each sore toe,

I know that it is a friend I supped,

and served from a bare cupboards’ shelf,

But then when full was asked to stay,

But smiling he ran fast away,

Time is a closet-filled with naught,

Of worthless unseen stuff of art,

Yet, time we know is none of these,

Yet we still wait to get more Time,

With hands outstretched stand deathly still,

While time just blithely walks ahead,

But thinking time waits for our stride is still our timeless all-time lie.

-Albert Turner Goins, Sr.