Some time I shall wonder what you meant when you will say
"All time is unredeemable," but it seems you might
Confuse the play with the real, so all futures must lay
Themselves down with all that is passed, paused, belayed.
You know, they say, who have found friendship displayed,
That those who wish their histories might change as soft clay
But persist in holding still, who run not swift away, who kind words coldly say
Shall be bound by dooms so ice-hard and heavy-chained that they
Could never lift one leg when comes a time to cry - that fateful day:
"Enough, enough: I must away!" Stuck they shall stay,
For endless days, held by silks heavier than all Earth weighs.
The Gods heed not such pleas, and never shall,
And even now Prometheus' eternal howl
Serves only to nudge them, as a clock works,
An alarm which never alarms, from slumber..
Never regret the unknowable paths of days
As if they were your choices never made. And do not forget
Not to speak of days not yet come as though they were set
In such stoney shackles that would not permit flight, nor
Be released. Such prisons are the worst,
yet worse still the ways
Leading to their gates.
For until there is no time remaining, yet
There is time - enough just to see the solidification of fleet feet
To dry cakes of clay to which water ne'er can return; which - once set -
Can never be re-moistened. Boots for Titans, yes
But quite beyond all human imagining. So
Look back, yes, smile, yet kindly,
For knowing cruelty can never, indeed or word, be redeemed,
As it has no currency that has not been forged from counterfeit ores,
Do not either break your neck in looking, nor fail to see the other ways,
For past things can never renew, are ever buried in lightless clay,
Days yet unmade need not stick as those,
nor need be dark as unquiet souls whose eyes shun light.
There are always many paths unseen and unguessed at
There is ever a Middle Way, not cruel nor cloyed too kindly.
Often there are many different courses
If one could but see them, overlaid, lapping
As the layers of time shift unceasingly
Under the bridges, cut by the silent keel,
They are diaphanous under faint moonlight though
And can only be sensed in the swollen heave of surface
And let never "irredeemably" be
Forever set uncured as "irremediable."
MTS 06/05/2012 1300::13:35 revised 21-04-2013
For R.
"All time is unredeemable," but it seems you might
Confuse the play with the real, so all futures must lay
Themselves down with all that is passed, paused, belayed.
You know, they say, who have found friendship displayed,
That those who wish their histories might change as soft clay
But persist in holding still, who run not swift away, who kind words coldly say
Shall be bound by dooms so ice-hard and heavy-chained that they
Could never lift one leg when comes a time to cry - that fateful day:
"Enough, enough: I must away!" Stuck they shall stay,
For endless days, held by silks heavier than all Earth weighs.
The Gods heed not such pleas, and never shall,
And even now Prometheus' eternal howl
Serves only to nudge them, as a clock works,
An alarm which never alarms, from slumber..
Never regret the unknowable paths of days
As if they were your choices never made. And do not forget
Not to speak of days not yet come as though they were set
In such stoney shackles that would not permit flight, nor
Be released. Such prisons are the worst,
yet worse still the ways
Leading to their gates.
For until there is no time remaining, yet
There is time - enough just to see the solidification of fleet feet
To dry cakes of clay to which water ne'er can return; which - once set -
Can never be re-moistened. Boots for Titans, yes
But quite beyond all human imagining. So
Look back, yes, smile, yet kindly,
For knowing cruelty can never, indeed or word, be redeemed,
As it has no currency that has not been forged from counterfeit ores,
Do not either break your neck in looking, nor fail to see the other ways,
For past things can never renew, are ever buried in lightless clay,
Days yet unmade need not stick as those,
nor need be dark as unquiet souls whose eyes shun light.
There are always many paths unseen and unguessed at
There is ever a Middle Way, not cruel nor cloyed too kindly.
Often there are many different courses
If one could but see them, overlaid, lapping
As the layers of time shift unceasingly
Under the bridges, cut by the silent keel,
They are diaphanous under faint moonlight though
And can only be sensed in the swollen heave of surface
And let never "irredeemably" be
Forever set uncured as "irremediable."
MTS 06/05/2012 1300::13:35 revised 21-04-2013
For R.
