The fight for time
By Parson Thru
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I miss my home
My family and friends
The Air
The open fields and pasture
Moor and meadow
Jet-trailed cobalt skies
My running-routes of old
The idle of a motorcycle engine
Yet
I feel compelled to live unencumbered
Somewhere where the fight goes on
Where souls can thrive
Where spending time isn’t yet a crime
Where underneath this soil
Mounds of bones remind us what’s at stake
Perhaps a memory lingers also in my bones
The legacy of generations
Two or three, no more
Inherited in genes or through tradition
Or in whispers -
The assembled spirits of my kin
This
For all the things I miss
Something finds me in these reconciling streets
Whose sense that modest living isn’t failure
Posts reminders
That the fight for time goes on
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Comments
you make me think of passing
you make me think of passing the time of day being like two friends passing a spliff, hoping no one will see them. the idea of free time as a waste of time when we exist only to be earning in order to consume
did you hear about Spain having the highest life expectancy soon?
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pretty and thoughtful. I
pretty and thoughtful. I think there is a great undercurrent of peace in this despite the yearning and passing years. time is yours, it's a miracle. your own perception of it is so important. Lovely piece
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I enjoyed this, Parson. We're
I enjoyed this, Parson. We're all just passing through, I guess. Time is a great poetic theme I find. So much to say. So intangible, yet tangible.
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