Time trickles down in seconds,
disappearing amongst dispersed actions.
An hour made everything within grasp,
a violinist preparing tune through ages of person,
constant in rhythm, constant in sound, calling.
The higher the pitch, it consumed you, making,
 instant drum beat course through changing faces.
The time that nothing had become truth became.
Fade does the minute, does the day.
Change has inhabited your body.
In his day and your years.

Life means little until back you look,
looking back is the realisation,
of how quickly time has passed.

 Breathing.


 18/05/12