The Book of Time

The Book of Time
By Stephen Smoke

Ah, the sticky web of time
Ensnares our moments past
A melancholy theme is heard
Nothing ever lasts

Memories like just-glimpsed ghosts
Dance in and out of view
Remind me of another time
Remind me so of you

When all we had were fragile dreams
When dreams came out to play
It seems so very long ago
And yet like yesterday

The Book of Time is infinite
Its pages cut through years
It holds the smile that’s seen no more
And all forgotten tears

Laughter echoes through silent nights
Like haunting carols sung
By angels who have gone before
And wait for us to come

But there’s no rush to for me to go
Nor do I try to hide
One day a door in time will lead
Me to the other side

The Book of Time is not a work
That reads well front to end
Uninitiated eyes
Strain to comprehend

Quicksilver in the mind of God
Memories are cast
In shapes and sounds that help us sleep
And make sense of the past

Shadows dance on walls of pain
To music of the heart
We see the things we want to see
From which we cannot part

Moments strung like Christmas lights
That flicker off, then on
The past is past, I see that now
And yet it’s never gone

The liquid lights of yesterday
Burn like flowing coal
Rivers that connect our minds
To landscapes of the soul

Such terrain is what it is
And cannot be explained
Can always be experienced
But seldom be maintained

Design so vast, infinity
Can’t be contained in years
Obvious in children’s eyes
Alive in old men’s tears

Ah, the sticky web of time
Ensnares our moments past
A joyous, peaceful theme is heard
When you’re here at last