Somewhere In Time

Do you have the time --
look and see!
Do you know what time it is?
It's not the same for you . . . as me.

Consider this moment-in-time:
it's mine to pen a poem -- yours, to read it!
Silly though this may sound . . .  I wonder from time to time . . .
about time. Do you have a moment to ponder it?

We speak of time as having character and will
and moods that change with the shifting of the winds.
"What a miserable yesterday, it was.
but today! Ah! so much better!"

Even the seasons rave about time!
Summer feels different from winter. And the smell
of an autumn breeze is unlike the air you breathe . . .
during April showers . . . in the early morning hours.

A winter's coat of white holds no likeness to a summer bright.
And the green of spring is not at all
October's view of multicolored leaves . . .
Before . . . or even after the fall.

What is time . . . anyway?  Does it exist?  Is it real?
Factories can not build it!  Merchants can not sell it!
Warehouses can not store it!
Maybe the magicians have hid it . . . up their sleeves.

Artists can not paint it;  musicians can not play it!
Yet humankind has invented watches
to keep track of this invisible, intangible essence we call time --
but can you wear it on your wrist?

What does time feel like at the North Pole? Or on the moon?
How does time make its journey 'cross arid, desert sands?
Or how does it maneuver through congested city streets
when everyone everywhere is frantically coming and going?

Why do some days seem so happy, and others very sad?
Some days long? Some here and gone before you know it?
Does time exist of its own accord?
Does time move, does time change -- or do we?

Oh, if there were no calendars or clocks,
no flowers budding or leaves turning,
and if the sun stood still while the nighttime was naught,
would you recognize our quaint Father-Time?

Would He yet beat in your heart? Could you enjoy Christmas in July? Watching leaves fall from the oaks and the maples,
can you feel the crispness of life budding forth
as if t'was springtime on Mother-earth?

Father-Time is the grand illusion -- yet vital to our soul's unfolding. Without the stretch of time, there'd be no tomorrows to envision:
no goals to achieve nor worries to leave.
Moments-in-time is God's gift to our kind.

The tendency to grab at moments out-of-reach
or hold on for dear life to moments that shall not linger . . .
lures us . . . farther and farther away . . .
from the Divine Order of the Universe and the richness of our day.

Yet, accepting each precious, never-before-now-moment-in-time
draws us back into a wholesome space.
Indeed, it is true that somewhere in time,
there is a place . . . for everything . . . under heaven.

Authored by Reverend Virgil Brewer at Unity Chapel
July 1, 2006
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