CHAOS COMES AS A COMFORTER

 

 

                                    The clock beats out the life of its mate, the heart.

                                    But on the way, a word disturbs a pebble

                                    from the spacious wash of recollection;

                                    from the ordered life breaks out an art.

                                    It offers ways impossible to chart:

                                    dimensions of design, belief, connection,

                                    transformation, memory, perception.

                                    The mind may rise like the sea when it departs,

                                    trailing sinuous veils, and takes to the air

                                    and presses inland from its element.

                                    It comes to dance upon the shore, aware

                                    of silent music past our discontent.

                                    We sleep as slaves of time; the clock takes over.

                                    When we wake, we wake another day older.