Rivers of Time

time is my nemesis
or waves of nirvana
my endless river
flowing downward
as peaceful eddies
or plunging torrents
tumbling from grace
in a chorus of sorrow
to an ocean quiescent

but peering backward
compels me to swim
relentlessly upstream
swallowing my sins
in a drowning energy
deep in time incensed
beneath suffocating fists
of a swirling vortex
draining me in despair

in time—the sun’s passion
and ignorance of time
repairs my broken glass
and carries me back
to an empty slice of sky
desperate for a quench
upon my chilling roots
of white snowy security
on a mountain of hope

shortly—time must die
and my analogy of tears
will gulp its fallen star
ripping through pasts
that settle in the silts
of my last painted sea
a prelude to sunsets
that will reflect the image
of whom I really am