Time's Exhaust

'

picture by Rod Scneider

Weekend gone, sat in garden
in distant city, people distracted 
misplaced priorities, in search of profit,
consumerism running riot, everything out of control
safety and caution bypassed to save some pennies,
a broken  process caught up in its own denial.
watch as corruption simply grows and grows
meanwhile at home, sun out, minding it's own business
neighbour shouted across the wall,
"lovely weather, mate, especially if your not working"
" Yeah " I sighed, turned my trowel in rich earth,
turning wilderness into something
deeper still, tearing down walls,
finding immediacy, even when lost
embracing rocks and stones, nurturing moss,
underneath a thousand currents
rested in  the shadows of  infinite,
where future's nourishment
knows another notion,
in former days of work slavery
obstacles galore fed on emptiness,
digging now for survival
belief in nature's power is definite,
Every word , a seed of tomorrow's breath
time exhausts,  air is full of living dust,
the careless  delay of language
echoes across the centuries,
when all the clocks stop
we will see history that we will all remember,
reality traded for paradise
beyond the ruination of now.